The blood of the innocent
it is so fresh
the blood of the guilty
I would not drink it
The guilt of the murderer
makes me want to bury him
deep and deeper than possible
in this puny dirtball
The men I meet
in the neatly paved road
their eyes are hollow
their tongues are pale
The dogs that bark
at my thick tree
that piss at my roots
I’ll kill them all.