Poems from Mr. Southpaw
Ruined plans.
Evil at work.
Suicidal, sober, and stardom.
Torture, terror, and triumph.
Irreplaceable.
None can escape.
Pistols and pills....
I see the casket and the mask inside,
Held within the young sleeper’s bloody hands.
How can kings pick the choice of suicide
When they have...
As I pass by the local airport, I
Notice the hound lying on the side
Of the street; his eyes are closed as he sleeps.
Synthetic fumes enter...
I notice attempts to fulfill those needs
Of protecting kids with safety measures.
Back then, the only concerns were nosebleeds.
Why must...
Patterns of abuse.
A predator in disguise.
But you’re innocent,
Maybe I’m in denial.
I need to know. Who are you?