I’m done
with the warfare
scratching her nails
down my back
lies that cut deeper
into the skin
than the tormented heart
of two-thousand mothers
so far

the piercing words
out of the corner of ‘da “W”’s mouth
that death
in her lust for greed
walking over
another roadside bomb
thru the gates of hell
in high heels
is the only escape plan
for the tomorrow
that never comes

I am climbing up the walls
of resistance
to the eyes
in the blank face
of insecurity
looking out a window
to an apolocaylpse
closer than the burning
more furious
than the heat of laughter
in the essence
of letting go
one hand
after another
fingers pointing
to the sky
reaching for something
anything
before loosing grip
on the afterthought
of a gun for hire