Dustoff

Like dust on my sleeve
I shall wipe you away without care
Not even looking behind
To find where you lay dead.

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I’ll Walk with my Dead

I’ll walk with my dead
with bare feet
upon red earth
soaked in blood
from victims unnamed

I’ll walk with my dead
head unbowed
there is no shame
to die inglorious
amid fire and hate

I’ll walk with my dead
lips a ditch spread
with grief and truth
they still haunt me
with waking eyes

I’ll walk with my dead
carry their sins
spreading their ashes
with every tear
in unmarked graves

I’ll walk with my dead
fade into shadow
anonymous gone
maybe I will live again
if you walk with me.

Mementos from Sufrida Street: Love is a Four Letter Word

“Love makes the World go round, baby!”
 
His smile was like liquorice in my head. I hated liquorice.
 
“Love’s also a bitch.”
 
The trigger offered no resistance when I pulled it. A gunpowder orgasm mixed a a cocktail of noise and lighting that filled the room. Grey and red painted a Pollock on the far brick wall.
 
One second my revulsion made man, the next, a crumpled dead thing on the floor. His face looked better now. The neon buzzing outside the room’s window drilled my head after the ringing in my ears stopped.
 
Saturday evening and nowhere to go. Love kills, baby.