The Work of American Poet Igor Goldkind



The Bullet from My Gun

I am propelled like a bullet from a gun barreling through space,

Through your flesh,

Through the time you have misspent on this Earth now ending,

Too late to regret the bending trigger of my gun.


I penetrate your vagina,

Your mind,

Your sense of inner self,

Tearing through your false resistance like a runaway train.


I cannot stop, I am momentum now.

Ripping through your many lives,

Decimating your hopes for the peace tomorrow that now will never come.

Because my trajectory is certain and yours is a wet pipe dream.


You are obliterated into fragments by the curling of my finger.

Now Isis will never find you.

Fear is a man’s best friend:

And a little pressure goes a long ways.


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