greasy palms

death is not about to follow you in the ditch it has better

things cut out                                                           better
things cut out in                                                       better

rooms.

Life is the hound the one that will stalk you haunt you are
you scared yet scared enough wits lost yet no?

Grease its palms and you will get greasy palms from the 
transaction that goes beyond time it goes beyond choice
to an axiom the starting axiom that proffered the word.

This entry was posted in Poetry.

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