poetry, Uncategorized

in the trunk

Here in the dark,

Roar of tires on the asphalt

Wondering where my God is,

And when He will pay me back

What He owes me

The musk of petroleum,

Endless packed bursts of despairing sweat

As I pretend all those episodes

of crime procedural dramas taught me

anything

But scripts need the suspect not to call

Their lawyer

And my hustle remains in place

Finding a dark comfort in knowing

This is how it ends.

From a business perspective,

It’s counter-intuitive but I’ve got cigarettes and

They didn’t tie my hands

And people see the beard and the easy manner

Don’t seem to get it all comes

Because I know my monsters

My darkness

And even my woman asked me,

And I answered

But still should’ve listened to her

Otherwise

I wouldn’t

Be

Here

In the first place

But like any good monster

I need a lair

To wait the day out.

No matter who comes in

I’ll be leaving with blood

On my teeth.

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