(being my newest creation this year)
...and as he walks pass the next boulevard of pitilessly broken bones
of caged boys,
their eyes look like a constellation of stars in this nonviolent sky.
within the depth of their own souls,
lies a seemingly unseen fire
of hunger and thirst
their tongues, their intestines
& setting their unclothed bodies
Watering the hot sand of stones
& silent cries of macabre skeletons,
he pours his insidious saliva in his bottle
of soda. This is his guessable arsenal of guerrilla.
He has no soap to wash his
perfidious arms, but
a pinch of salty ingredients to add to his rice.
What a terrible cook he