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Predator on a hunt
reeling them in with
eye-contact and a smile –
You’ll never see it coming.


Gaol for the wretched
Inmates who shout and slam
Ball fists, raised high,
Brought down upon the bars
Encircling the riff raff.
Roaring loudly of their humiliation,
Incensed at their circumstances…
Sadly, it’s their own noise which
Hinders understanding and empathy.


Leisurely he mounts
An iron horse, long-tamed,
To meander through the winding streets
Endless in the morning haze.


Seized at the seams
and unraveled;
visceral screams
echo for miles…

My crimson thread:
exhausted at last.


Flesh, gripping to alabaster bone,
blood, pumping to the metronome,
heart, the will that is our guide
soul, the truth that lies inside.