Like partisan fighters
through fences at night
they sneak back to see
the wounds they've inflicted
where roiled lungs lurk
in the mess that's been made
of years' worth of detritus
peddling flesh.
Take no prisoners.
Give no quarter.
Make the most
of the rest of the minced.
No warspoil's worth
our sacrificed sanity.
Play them in close
like they're Aces and Eights.
Within the parameters
and outside the box
is where it's still safe
to diddle Eve's seeds.
Lies like the Husband Stitch
stole through the blight
betting all lips
for this heads'll roll.
Wore out a welcome
in this town too soon.
A brace of pistols sits on the bed.
Anything solid's been bolted down hard.
Nobody moves and no one gets hurt.
Currently reading:
"The Dark Tower IV: Wizard and Glass" by Stephen King.
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