Enemy of the afraid
Terror of the tame
The privileged have you made
Into killers by name
If dying is your game

Too suspicious, skin too dark
your foreign tongue
Has made its mark

Bomb terror, bomb terror
Empathy to maim
Get your guns, weapon bearer
If dying is your game

Weighing lives against each other
Civil fear, where is your mother

If misused power lent you fame
then dying is your game

Darkness, I embrace
a smug look upon my face
But
Emptiness, I abhor
In the still I plead "No More!"

Here I am
Again
Mumbling excuses
For my misuses
Of any likeness
to rhyme

Cry,
her eyes succumbing to their selfish demand
which they so often did
her sobs old news,
but a more definite pastime
Than numbness.
Driving invalidated by a lack of destination
Stop signs blurring
In salt water, a stew of ******  Christian music
disingenuous howls louder than thoughts, and
Radio static filling spaces like confusion
, "I feel broken", she informed the rear-view mirror
For lack of better words

Her acidic tears dissolved the soft armor
Of her twins in the back seat.
Who added their mother's grief
to the bruises on their insides.
And mourned the cigarette smoke
She swore would never be there

So the sad little Saturn was weighty
and drove ruts in the pavement
with dysfunctional hurt
and she was subject to trite metaphors
Which she spewed at an alarming rate

For she never got rid if
The ****-tinted glasses
That were taped to her face.

In vain determination
I sweep
pockets of nighttime
from the guarded corners
of my perception

In vain determination
I blink
a dusty darkness
from impaired eyes
that serve me naught

In vain determination
I breathe
in caustic shards
with every gasp
of air that taunts
my life
with fatality.