"I've got this killer up inside of me... I can't talk to my mother, (friends, women, coworkers, associates, affiliates, city council, the internets, the homeless or even your mother) so I talk to my diary."

-that Scarface song from Office Space

Death Masque, Cubic

Death and death
Vie for my life
Rallying armies
Of opposite progeny…

Both alight their
Arrows with the same fuel
Ignite in identical ridicule
Yet the shafts
Are of a differing wood?
A blessing gone misunderstood,
I guess.

Effects the same pool, with nod
To a tried rite,
Through both ways
Bleeding afield
Conquered by home and abroad
In coordination
I would have rather
Chosen my own
From this place.

Though I only have a couple of arms
My ire could embrace a triple karma’d egress,
With more options to rankle
The gall of duality;
Alcohol, tobacco and firearms.

-Friday, January 23, 2009

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