the brush of a hand
slays in
whispers what
the fire cannot take
grows to an inferno
keeping pace with
heartbeats on the floor,
we are less than fully automatic,
or a bump stock, yet we feel
the trigger.
© Ben Ditmars 2017
Bump Fire
the brush of a hand
slays in
whispers what
the fire cannot take
grows to an inferno
keeping pace with
heartbeats on the floor,
we are less than fully automatic,
or a bump stock, yet we feel
the trigger.
© Ben Ditmars 2017
The Midnight Writer 