Violence is the most temptuous of my demons
I grip the reins, clench the bridle
confront the past, the mirror shoock, image strewn, was it me, violence is most temptuous
90 miles per hour over the bridge, red and blue lights in the rearview sight right on Celery, past the Indian burial ground
and it grew from there, the beams were welded
shattered and fractured, bricks and pipes, masks and gloves
retribution was all the justification I needed
Stood up to them all, but not to myself
until I got knowledge of self
weekend and shows, Fridays and Wednesdays
single file sometimes stretched a mile
once inside it was no better boredom supplanted our intelligence
the tinnitus walked on all our legs taking on unbeatable odds
I knew I'd lose but I didn't care boredom
destroyed my prudence
retribution again was a tool, an implement
of this assailant.
He bled on the ground and I stood tall but
what did it solve?
Stood up to them all, but not to myself
until I got knowledge of self.
