Gunsmoke smells like a shot at destiny it lingers devastatingly astringent, strange. Peculiar how that powder penetrates the senses, perpetuating the hairs to stand erect on my neck. The haze remains a looming sensation of doom, groomed in the echoes of the chamber shifts, as the hammer lifts to trigger ignition, Ammunition now sent on a one-way expedition down destiny's fine pipeline in between what is and what could be, as the axis of these poles, making love around the point neither can touch, Oh how we're swirling in orbit at exorbitant speeds, I see both barrels flashing wishes of greed, heeding another day to see come and go-
That's when it all went Black.
Hell- That's all I'll ever know.
