The Human Condition.

With these eyes I envision the walls
With these hands I stack the stones
With these lips, I call the shots
Watch the gunfire erupt in homes

With these walls I give them nowhere to run
Throw the broken rocks at their mother’s head
With these lips, that trace upon collarbones
Bullets lodged in children grayed and dead

With this voice I threaten interference
With this nose I smell burning hair
With these feet I stand on charred limbs
Disgracing those that have lungs without air

With these hands that tremor just a little
With these eyes that stare down gravestones
With this mind, foggy and ignorant Bourbon
With these legs that collapse on dusty ground bones

With this hand, barrel pressed against my forehead
As the doors burst open in rooms unoccupied
With these bullets that shine in weather unclear
Reeking of blood, crimson shot-glass eyes

With these hands that serve their last purpose
With these ears that hear the silent blast
With these eyes that close into darkness
Along with the cold dirty heart that beats its last