donate to ya boy

Monday, July 18, 2011

I CALL MY BROTHERS SON,BECAUSE THEY SHINE LIKE
a soul at the gate,
replinished & frightened
night time splices with moments of memoris of those who lived life in a limelight
only to be struck down by visions of those who mean to inject fright
fear for lack of a better term,love the antethisis OF
spun until the clothes are worn out,fading like the sounds of distant war drums
moments now turn to tourment
,what was I put here for now love?
Lord if I had a gallon of bullets Id pour it into the people I trust
only because of the hardships that are hard to speak of without trouble
new brain bubles burst like bruises and blisters
but somthing is reminescent of my childhood fears
I came for the combustion
Ill stay for the fuck of it

2 comments:

  1. There are some brother-sons out this way. Cousin-sister-uncles, even.

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