Features

We belong to the flatlands 

where people still struggle, 

there is no revolution 

only the gunfire. 

Love for each other is shown 

in fleeting back-slapping hugs. 

Behind you 

jealous words deadly slugs. 

If you’re not stepping on someone’s head 

you’re not stepping. 

Death comes in many forms 

not just the homicides on TV news. 

Young dead faces 

blaze off t-shirts. 

When we met, 

my man owned nothing 

but a pile of obituaries 

he said goodbye to nightly. 

Cheap food and too many vices 

sweetened known carcinogens 

wrapped and heated in poisoning plastics. 

Overweight hearts 

pumping heartbreak and drama. 

No quiet time-out 

in concrete cells 

caged animals, we shout. 

The line between 

incarceration and freedom blurs 

for repeat offenders. 

We learn to put ourselves in boxes 

and spin our rat wheels off. 

Grind ourselves down to toothless dreamless bones. 

So many things we yearn for. 

White rocks and black tar not the only addictions. 

Pussy you escaped into 

Comes with hungry mouths to feed 

and it all, 

goes through the system.