The Blind Gunman

deep in the cracks of the dry earth, there
is a mild sense of balance and tragedy
curled up against a black trigger. blood flows
from two hollow places, one in the skull
one in the chest
as a sudden surge of darkness overtakes the
visions of the true
and the sane.
it is only at times like these,
when the days begin perspiring
like the petal-like tongue
that we find our souls beginning to decay.