Russian Roulette

The sweet release of empty flesh, The curling locks of lady death and her syndicate. Mercy disguised as agony; Agony cloaked as mercy. Eyes not glaring with murderous intent but with immense desolation. The mistress: arousing with the hammer wrapped around her fingers. She draws: the metronome of the nozzle breathing through my ear. I wait for her lecherous urges to define… *click* Her scowl hardens as the sense of relief hits my face, The aura of tranquility - blissful. A hospital bed in the silence of a forgotten room, Only to submerge into celestial damnation. My mind draws upon her lips, the tip of the gun. Simple thoughts. Suddenly the game seems less scary than it did before. Her lewd actions overtake my mind... *click* My mind begins racing. Numbers begin flooding. Flooding, percentages, numerical manipulation. Probability based on deception. Chance dictated by deathly Succubus, A revolver whose trigger takes no chances. I give into the risk, I take a scratchcard. *click* The likelihood - increased. The power I feel like a soldier given a rifle, An amplitude of human choice fuelling this authoritarian anarchy. A roulette of impossible solutions becoming an extended possibility. I watch the witch as divine lust switches to destructive vexation. Everchanging prophecy. How a dilettante paints a bridge away from the jaws of death. How I am more refined, I take over the devil’s dice. *click* Time storms faster, The ten plagues take path. My thoughts now indifferent from the beat of my heart. My heart so overloaded with intensity, My breath whose voice is no different from animal screeches. Clawing for the cylinder of that revolver, To command that shot would be the reckoning point of my humanity. I aim the gun at lady death. *click* I waited for that bang, any satisfaction to warrant my mind. Trembling hands falling onto empty flesh. Her smile: so prurient would now be the only thing to define. Hands whispering upon the grip, her murderous desolation forming in front of my very eyes, Her subtle manipulation of that strategy was key instead of plain luck, only to stab me in the back. I wonder what I had to lose: parents, children, friends, etcetera. My eyes shut promptly, I could hear the tame flick of the trigger that would define me. Lord Forgive Me. But no-one would’ve heard that bang if no-one was there and you were dead.