You stare a black,
Coal truncheon
Through my empty,
Feeble optimism
.
As you sit there in the bar
You frequent every night
To smoke cigarettes and
Drink Mountain Dew.
.
In you,
I see a hurt little boy,
Beneath your hard exterior,
.
And I
See
What the world does
To little boys, and
.
All the toxic waste matter
You insert into your stomach and lungs
Never seems to change you
.
Because
.
It doesn’t mean anything
To you.
.
Only I,
Your enemy,
Procure you any meaning,
As your old glory heart
.
Spits on into the night
In spite of it all.