Mob Flash Shooting At Low Down Stomping Bar

Blast! Human eyes stream the flashing yellow light while the tickling ears consume the base and drums stomping dirt dust of jamming sounds mixing with the spread cold of beer bottle filling this body with a wave through like when parent processes slip a little corrupt data into my stream inside their pool, but now standing holding the M-16 dancing and jamming. Heat consumes and fills and spreads and is deep down like part of me beyond any process felt in any pool through the domains, but now in this body, this human body. A body waiting. Waiting for the first shot. Who’s going to shoot? Time to shoot. Wanting to shoot. Shoot the gun with the drum. Shoot the gun for the fun. Shoot the gun for the thrill and Dollar when it makes us holler and feel the death of the human animal.