weak heartbeats fleeting with
sun-rays still beating upon tin roofs but
its almost-evening sun,
and the terry cloth mothers love while,
wire mother monkeys stick their babies with coat-hanger guns.
i’m standing bare and merciless,
as rheese monkeys and american children become
other without reason & speed.
tachycardia stretches out and little lambs become suicide bombs,
who made the mistake of putting on shoes and schools and
cutting their hair.
wind up coils of anxiety because
ashes,ashes we’re
all c-u-t down.
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