Many could find me gagging oneself, something choking the lungs and numbing the brain. Blinding the eyes of what's before thy person. With only salty tears given you a blurry vision in front of you. Reaching out for something, that be good or not.
A poetic I'm not.
Deadly?
Yes?
No?
White seems to think so and wishes me dead.
But smoke, white smoke, such as I . . . once it's in the air, bits can be blowed away, but once in the air, forever it will be.
Bomb me, I'll be back and bury you alive.
Snap me, break me, hang me.
Little harm you'll bring on me, White. Madam Gray can't save you nor I for the trouble we bring on each other.
I'm onto you, White. Your rep as a spy is number.
Light that fuse and smoke will be there.
With rope, ready to bring pain to you, as you would do to me.
Fear me, White, for Black Spy is coming to get you. And make your last day, forever lastly, in your pea steam, you call a brain.
Until then, my friend.
"You're more rough than ever, Black."
"Practice, just practice." Holding the hatched over the hogtied paler one's neck.
"Make it quick."
"Plan on it."
