Findings Of A Felon

I'm not content
spilling roses into cans
like trash
compacting crushed contracts
making contact with
thirsty
hurting hearts
& smashing their beats dead
in my hands

When mine is gashed
edges slashed & raw
pooling plasma where
grudges lashed it
with squalid claws

There is no hope
for those with open souls
issuing bruises
when truly
they need
salvage from the Sewer
to come
& stitch them closed