planning my funeral

my twilight is near,

stars tease my eyes.

the sparrow makes peace,

with the hawk.

the riot squads bury

their bullets.

i pass the pipe,

and pray,

behind my breath.

i am houdini,

performing my escape,

with some dignity.

vindictive spirits,

have nowhere,

but hell to call home.

i watch the blood,

they leave behind,

it never matters much.

the rolling stones,

are my words,

i crawl over.

i understand,

the tricks you do,

most of the time.

the temperature,

of the dark,

keeps my fingers loose,

to bust out another poem,

before i have to leave.

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