Hate. Falling three feet to the ground.
Face down on the cold floor of a well-oiled SF pigsty I met my one true love.
youth crushed somewhere between concrete & boot, another victim of the lower hate.
You are not my god. You think this is funny don't
How the helpless freak squirms beneath our state sanctioned soles, but what is he laughing at?
There was nothing padded
about a wagon full of mace.
Rotator cuff hyper extends behind my back ribs cracking beneath a rain of sticks & heels falling down like
the rain outside.
Oh yeah b***h, I'm gonna remember your face your name your number;
and when I crawl out of this hole I'm going to
make you all mine.
Auschwitz Kent State Chi-Town 68 Tianamen Waco.