Never mind what the angel said, perhaps she was right to be afraid - beaten to death in the corner by weak and insecure men with unconcealed animosity toward contemporary society, contemptuous men taking revenge for fifty, sixty years of perceived transgressions…
…a thousand sons of bitches, painfully stubborn and unwilling to release the smoke of their illusions…
…maybe call the police - if you think they could help, as if they would help. They’re bastards too. Visualize it. Check the numbers. You know how this goes. Aces. Sure as the sun, they won’t come.
…you can hear them screaming in the street, firing their guns into the darkened skies. Be not afraid? Maybe I am, a little - when hate is not enough for their enemies and death is too much for my friends.
No comments:
Post a Comment