Saturday, April 28, 2012

Run.


You never know who’s talking, stalking,
setting out to prove you did it –
monitoring every move –

the skies have eyes –
the city takes no pity
on your lame attempts to justify: it pries –

berates – will peel you down –
reveal the sorry thing you are –
exposed as the ungrateful insubstantial

criminally negligent example
of a constitutionally lacking thing –
a shattered bum to shun.

Grab what matters. Run.








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