assassin (Remove filter)
Hitman
I dial him up,
An unlisted number, of course
But easy enough to find
When you know where to look.
He speaks low, and slow,
I tell him what he needs to know,
No more. Not too much.
He books me in. Half-four.
Simple stuff - a time, a place, the door,
The colour, the number, the floor outside.
Then the target, to mark it,
Rough age, hair colour?
Height, weight, creed?
But...
Friday 4th October 2013 8:59 am
Recent Comments
Rick Varden on Money
4 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Nobody Loved Me Like You
6 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Je t’adore.
6 hours ago
Tim Higbee on It Matters Not
8 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Weekly WalkaboutsVerse, E.G., Poem 140 of 230: HOUSING
12 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Money
12 hours ago
David Franks on Weekly WalkaboutsVerse, E.G., Poem 140 of 230: HOUSING
13 hours ago
Manish Singh Rajput on It Matters Not
13 hours ago
Clare on Je t’adore.
1 day ago
John Coopey on AUTUMN TREES
1 day ago