Wild Boys


They all lived and played in the musk of Summer’s arm pits

running relays through her grays

 

chasing down wet dreams and what not

trying to be the rulers of their adolescent days

 

bullets with names whistling by, singing tunes

as they pop lock to their certain death

 

running over their wounded comrades who lay

with footprints in their chest; stomped to death

 

those wild boy bandits let loose through concrete jungles

barely surving through each others admiration

 

Remaining as they were, running for death,

Conquistadors of Damnation

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One thought on “Wild Boys

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