Big Brown Eyes

to my soccer buddy who is a tiny giant with malt-ball eyes and a funny 'fro.

blood running down the sink
in the creases of your fingers
pools in your palms

scars engraved
written in stone
can be
markings on the path
biased history

infront is not decided
don't draw the map so quickly
number 6 reverberates

just like bleach
toxic to drink
smell just rests in the air
burns so sweet
rusty red stains
made white
not the natural, still intended

clog the drain
discolor enamel
leave the faucet dripping

Blood is life
not added or included,
but the very bricks
its all about dying
the very reason, very breathing

wash your hands in The Blood
bathe in the flow of life
suicide?
perhaps
but isn't that the point?
its all about dying

sit beside those fancy doors
shadowed in the steeple
im mixing myself in
prepare yourself
The Blood is chasing you
that gun won't be enough
can't protect from this

water is inadequate
baptize in the bleach
brittle, fake skin seared away
red-shell diluted by The Blood

liberal portions in your person
crossed the ocean
all things new
now ford that bloody river
drenched clean the other side

not the future, nor the past
only answer
'Do not kill'
plunge into that river, dive into the death
its all about dying