deepundergroundpoetry.com
Berserker Rage
A dislocated voice
In the air vent -
Brandished in a
Blemish
Of
Discoloration.
He did a ten year sentence,
Is released
Then
They put a GPS under
His car -
To follow him
&
Now
He’s looking at another ten.
I marvel
At the roguish audacity
That
I see.
At 3 AM
My eyes are wide
In
The tide
Of perpetual light reflected upon the stone walls.
I hear him -
As he smashed bullet proof glass, with a detached
Seat,
Flashing gun metal:
The Balls.
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