Poptarts taste like Poptarts when thrown up. They coat the mouth with sugar and candy fruit, a cornucopia of spit without the color. Gun barrels taste like cold metal. Fear heaves, wet, dry, then wet again. Spittle drips from my chin like acid rain. I can smell the gunpowder, an unspent shell in a no-nonsense 20mm that feels like six inches between my teeth. The genie aims it high, so it’ll rip th
Poptarts taste like Poptarts when thrown up. They coat the mouth with sugar and candy fruit, a cornucopia of spit without the color. Gun barrels taste
Read more of this blog post »