these strange maneuvers, twisted, undo me. i've unloaded my gun now. i always thought it would be the worst part. it's rather watching the bullet hit that tears my heart. it moves so fast, it skips the skin, right past the skull to nestle in. between your frontal lobe and your motor skills, i'm sure because you froze still. but i wasn't much better for wear. wondering did i really pull the trigger. was i really there. i'm sure there's a term for it. delusions of war? your mouth is still working around words that aren't coming. my head is still trying to figure out why i need to hear anything at all. silence permeates like a warm breeze. could we forget our worries? could we please. bullet wounds and scattered brains let you forget little of the ever present circumstance. but maybe we can be good thesbians. play like this is normal. enjoy the moment.