23300
It's high noon
Air fills with anticipation
And the sweat of impending doom
Time blooms suspense
Two parties stand
At two different poles
Repelling each other
Power struggles
Creating awkward tension
Its stench
Dominating other senses
Arms awaiting to be drawn
Itchy fingers
Eager to taste flesh
And bullets ready to spill blood
Battle lines drawn in the sand
Hearts beat erratically
Hand receptors itching for orders
Brain remains dead still
Ever calculating scenarios
Exploring vantage points to exploit
