With the lash rolling
on burned bodies
the whispers of broken backs
are stillborn

with fiery bowls and a glowing glow
on the bruised arms
the lash rolled

too often the noose of rage hang me
like the dog who barked and hung the day
snare drums in the alley of Alleyways
prepares me to let go of rage
against the things that are holding me,
binding me, away from my humanoid being

Nothing and no one can sooth this hate
like the puddle of blood
which shaped the hills in me in shredding
too often the lash rolling with fire,
howling hate, shape me
in shredding