…………Flashbacks
He has maimed many men, plus a couple of chicks
Son was cold back then…
But since doing ten in the pen
…………….His whole perspective has switched…
How he wished he’d just resisted that urge
Now ghosts haunt his spirit, he exists on the verge
Of a nervous splurge, as twisted faces - emerge
Whispering words worth a thousand pictures
Recalling each sinister-incident, he lies listless
Listens too the screams that invade daydreams
Cold sweat seeps thru seams & fades his genes,
First toted triggers as a teen angry & mean faced
Blood on the staircase, barely made clean escape
Pulse beating torridly… heart teemed with hate
Sown so sinfully, surely Satan schemed this fate
His plate is over laden with the flesh of rivals
Dining on death soup, regurgitating the next revival
…Shit started after sex in a brothel,
A blowjob from a crack hoe ended in a flash of rifles
Since she rifled his pockets to supply her habits
Ricochets were riveting… the crossfire flew rapid
Homicide was a joy…, as this desire grew graphic
Driving thru traffic, the red lights are an omen
Still he refuses to stop quick, decides to keep rolling…
Dirty deeds fuck-up his head, as fathers face appears
Mother lays half-dead naked beside a case of beers
Another tear drops… & little brother tastes the fear
Raised in domestic chaos, sister had braids in her hair:
Afraid to hear, scared to see, flashbacks fade to black…
Then comeback unanimously with gory images attached
The story sifts in his skull as he sits in this dull room
Movie-projectors unwind in his mind a crude cartoon
Construe the true meaning of dude’s attitude to life
Driven by unwise vibes, needing bleeding to survive
Love wasn’t on his side, so he couldn’t then decide
To settle down, as every woman in town just takes a ride
& all lies aside, - most men portray perverse profiles
Rapture rises when killing them, even so he shows no smiles
Miles from home, lost & zoned-out, drunk off the juice
Torsos in the trunk, pray for life? Punk what’s the use?
Stephanie the younger sister was stillborn…
Long gone, dun never met her, yet he still mourns
Until dawn - guns spill pawns, revenging ill wrongs
Relieving a piece of the grief, - he kills throngs
Smoke brings peace to the soul, so he fills bongs
& feels lungs digest resin from cannabis crumbs
Numbs emotion, bursts tins open with his thumbs
Becomes gut wrenched, drenched in Super Cider
No longer hyper, dulling the mood to play sniper
Tries to remember the days he didn’t slay in anger
Mr Nice Guy around the way” drove a grey banger
Slang a lil ‘erb & worked weekend at a shoe store
Back then - he restrained sin: until flashbacks grew more…
Intense, held in suspense… a scion of inspiration
A poison vine climbs in his mind so long it’s ancient.
He’s a baby again, in the playpen shaken by violence
Slapped in the face on occasions beaten to silence
With sticks & fists… too metal bits on belt buckles
Kid chuckled to hide the fear when he felt knuckles
Suckled on cow milk & no tits, his cortex came so sic
Membrane commotion as Vortex Flames flow - quick
It’s enough to give a motherfucker flashbacks & shit!
1
son
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