Fly Mountain, Self-reflection, Rasputin
Sean Kilpatrick

You think: "Rasputin would like this."
A trail of his handprints finds you.

Your life is all make-up and guns.
Disguised as nine-to-five.

You think: "Drop me off at this extinction.
That extinction."

Before Rasputin walks out of the river.
And grabs your head with one hand.

Finished. All finished.