Hate. Falling three feet to the ground.
Face down on the cold floor
of a well-oiled SF pigsty
I met my one true love. Testi Canzoni
Feel youth crushed somewhere
between concrete & boot,
another victim of the lower hate.
You are not my god.
You think this is funny don't you pig?
How the helpless freak squirms beneath our
state sanctioned soles,
but what is he laughing at?
There was nothing padded
about a wagon full of mace.
Rotator cuff hyper extends behind my back
ribs cracking beneath a rain of sticks & heels
falling down like the rain outside.
Oh yeah bitch,
I'm gonna remember your
face your name your number
and when I crawl out of this hole
I'm going to make you all mine.
Auschwitz Kent
State Chi-Town 68 Tianamen Waco.