An admiration for abolition.
Close quarters conversation, and demolition.
Obstructive outbursts, constructive concerts,
and outraged rebellious rallies.
They preach round words, and mastered mortality catalysts,
soaked like dish towels.
Pen and paper,
barbed double edged razor wire,
and sharp teeth.
Hand tapered fine meats; an electrified man- reviver.
Perplexed attire,
liquor bottles and glass houses.
Insane models, fake **** in skin blouses.
Weaved baskets of silver trash,
and packed ground ashes.
The masses, pained by stained caskets,
and back lashes.
Oblivion shoves, and the brain passes.
The sadness.
Fertilized territories,
and athletes with vein madness.
Getting laid, and LED light brigades,
November no-shave, and long hair with viking braids.
Homeless, with no car and bike less.
Filling lungs up with nitrous.
Instantly flightless,
and magazines full of white ****** spiteness.
An officers flashlight kiss.
Nervousness, and ****** lips.
Love confusion, brought on by a ****** fist.
Lucrative ways to hang and sway.
Dangle from the chain of a rich gang banger,
as he fades to grey.
Rude assumptions, and high heeled country bumpkins.
Cracking the asphalt with their steel toes thumping.
What a great place to be.
©Kyle Fisher
