dyer's holiday

the reflections of a man dying in war.

bullet tears me half-open,
and my steaming innards spill onto my hands
like hell's party streamers.
i scream,
but it ain't nothing more than another voice
in a twisted wailing choir.

inside-out on this dyer's holiday,
i'd kinda hoped to pass as i should've--
a half-smoked cigarette between my lips
and my lady waiting for me on the other side.
but then--
a lot of things ain't what they should be.

Author's Note

Another war piece.

Reviews

[Ben Taylor]

The language used really gives this a "personal" feel.
Also, "like hell's party streamers"?
That is awesome. :D Your descriptions are boss, my friend.

[MR_BERG]

Sharp and to the point.

Thank you.