Open the hurt locker and see what there is of knives and teeth.
Open the hurt locker and learn how rough men come hunting for souls.
each twist of the round
spun deeper, because here, Bullet,
here is where the world ends, every time.
It should make you shake and sweat,
nightmare you, strand you in the desert
of irrevocable desolation, the consequences
seared into the vein, no matter what adrenaline
feeds the muscle its courage, no matter
what god shines down on you, no matter
what crackling pain and anger
you carry in your fists, my friend,
it should break your heart to kill.
Mots clés murder revenge regrets
Believe it when you see it.
Believe it when a twelve-year-old rolls a grenade into the room.
...because here, Bullet,
here is where the world ends, every time.
Has this year made me a better lover?
Will I understand something of hardship,
of loss, will a lover sense this
in my kiss or touch? What do I know
of redemption or sacrifice, what will I have
to say of the dead - that it was it worth it,
that any of it made sense?
I have no words to speak of war.
Mots clés war
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