I rant about solitude’s unfortunate overachievers,
the damned self righteous, been there, done that heathens,
that rake the planet’s subculture of mud house tyrants
of any conjecture that parallels sanctimony.
Tear the traitorous scoundrels that mirror peace in
actions of impetuosity’s demons. Who stands alone among the wolves of avarice?
Maybe a tin can kicking boy could obscure with little notice
the skinned knee town cryer’s rationality, blessing humanity with cruel stupidity,
their own self plagiarizing free fall of common brutality.
I breath the air of giants that gobble up the rectifier’s rattle and chain
and spew the earth’s damned to the brimstone fire, the ashes of mayhem.- Sinz