Explosions happen.

The gun points too high.

Your bit of metal will

Need to dig through thick cranium

And in sponge of my brain

I can imagine it away.

Not to the heart!

The mindless pump

will drip cliches.

Put your foot down

Aim a foot lower.

Shoot through the stomach,

Where it parts the softest flesh.

And through the singed passage of your bullet,

You let loose inside

The parts of me that always wanted to eat.