Death in the BoondocksDeath in the Boondocks by queenISH
your violent facade is fading.
you walk the edges of town and make
misery feel like malt liquor, hard and hazy
and painfully addicting.
you carry a loaded semi-automatic and preach
the wickedness of gun violence. you feel weighted and
sunk to the bottom of the Charles.
in the South, the streets crumple and you feel
violently double-crossed by the dead weight
of morning as you sit in your car and watch the city bleed.
at Quincy, the rows of 4th of July ribbons deride you
as you stumble by; the air is bubbling and you
don't have any more legs to stand on.
it's a hot morning and Harvard is gray as dust.
it is hateful irony that the red streamers remind you
of blood rather than bliss.
you are a hooligan, and the hot steel is barbed wire
next to your skin. how many days has it been since you slept?
it doesn't matter, you know the real reason you carry that gun.
you always laughed at irony, even if it wasn't funny. you
laugh hysterically now, down at the end of the docks, the morning
The LOL Corner [#24]The LOL Corner [#24] by Tachy-on
The LOL Corner
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