killer artist


you hold destruction
everywhere.
it is there burning your ears hot.
on your tongue at the roof of your mouth,
holding the ammunition in place.
no blood, but rather
venom coursing through your veins.
down your arms,
in to the palm of your hands.
oh yes, destruction is there.
especially there.

yet you walk with gentle feet along a soft beach,
entrench your hands in to the cool sand
and begin to create.

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