If I had a target drumed against my temple,
and if I contrary to expectations
would hit the bulls'-eye,
and crack my skull open like an egg.
Would then bits of brian substance
paint the wall on my side with recollections,
and would then rivers of blood rape my skin
and longen my red hair down my side,
would you be able to look in to my eyes
and see the rivulet of oxygen running through,
and were would my memorys

go?