as the savage that am I, tear
into the flesh of the weak and power-
less
my brow is furrowed.
I carry razorblades in my pocket (just incase)
I don’t want to hurt you
but I can

.it’s morning for whiskey in
black coffee
(two o’clock PM never tasted so good)
but who wouldn’t if they
cried until the sun came up?
and then
died.

.but life never over turned a stone
to find a key
hole
that fit your fingers
without break-
ing a couple b o n e s      to find nothing.