Warm nights

Smitten by the whimsical flair of a common hunter in sheep's clothing, he marked each step towards the barrel as a product of pure chance. Feverish skin and blood infused eyes, once playing along the norms, shattered me in a split second. Stripped of contex, removed from mankind as a whole. The unapologetic indulgence of reptilian brains, now gorging on each others' flesh, safe by the deviant lineage of shared needs inside a sharp edged toilette under the stairs. Free, for as long as we possibly could, untill our timelines split.

You see, my friend, boredom is a mighty tool. It keeps us craving, lurking for the unknown. And I am comming back to refill the life you loathed in selfish pourpose, with a handful of reasons to unload your gun.