by Tomorrow's Man
February 18, 2003
I feel shot to hell on the tip of a rusted bullet. Everything feels, even a grain of sand, even your shoe. Everything feels, even a blue sky and a stone.
Even these forty trillion snowflakes conspiring to break my back.
I feel too, snowflake. Mostly though, I feel shot to Earth, on the tip of a rusted bullet, floating through hell like a snowflake.