those eyes are scarred
from damaged winds
on pavement singed
rent scenes recite
a diatribe
how do you live
holes dirtied leak
torn shadows sigh
they shelter filth
you cull the heat
until dice turns
to excise rage
with scalpel sharp
reprieve in sight
a poor man's
prize
----
©
At times we see old eyes pass us by, biding their time. It may be on the street, in a bus or train.
Sometimes we see it in the mirror. We know we would never do the deed. We seek to rise above injustice, to transform. But the primitive mind wants its moment, if only in mind ©