Cinerous Drops of November Rain.

I could feel the bullet break the soft of my flesh...
Its tail traveling up through the radius of my chest.
I could not hear the shot, but i felt the dark.
With its parting kiss, laid my disembark.

Taken aback, I rose upright...
Squinting my eyes in the diffracting streetlights.
Curious of this dream, I spun around,
To see my bloodied guts spurred over the ground.

Nothing registered as the cadaver bled.
My own dead body, missing bits of its head.
But how could that be me, if I'm watching from here?
The sirens in the distance matched the blares of my fear.

I stood watching them get out, dark gloves, pale faces.
They walked with a stiffness, as if timing their paces.
Each trench coat held snug to the thin of their skin...
While they clutched a large bag, that fluttered in the wind.

Trying to draw them, I could feel no mouth.
I could not feel anything, as falling snow carried my shouts.
Standing there staring, I am enveloped in black.
My body is in the bag, but I'm still somehow intact?