Monday, April 8, 2013

poem of the day 04.08.13

life without parole

i feel furious, gutted emotionally
sickened by guilt and glue and floor wax smells
but still he comes at me like fresh meat
calling me a fuck of a fucking low life, as if he knows
grabs the laptop out of his woman’s hand
like he wants to hit me with it
but instead storms out into traffic like a madman
leaving me there hands shaking, violence made manifest
knowing if that guido prick tries to come back in here
i’ll be doing life without parole in no time flat


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