Bloated

I’m
swine.

Bloated,
stuck through,
and soon to
swell in the sun
with ants in my mouth,
my eyes plucked out by
hungry crows.

Justice

The police are massing,
I’m outgunned,
armed with only
a limp prick
and an unloaded shotgun.

I’ll tell you now,
if you shoot at the king,
you better
fucking kill him.

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Filed under outlaw poetry, poetry, politics,

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