A time 2 kill


A time to kill

Something about a city just makes you want to kill
Something about those men in masks and blue suits with shiny buttons in combat boots
makes you want to kill

Something about my very existence makes me want to kill
My varied existence, the very reason that they kill

Something about a skin too dark, a tongue too tangled, features too foreign
Something about public lavatories and toll booths, fire engines and police sirens always racing down the avenues makes you want to kill

Something about boredom and fear and strife that's painted on all the faces chained to buses and jobs and wages and laws like slaves in cages, makes you want to kill

Something about a pie faced Negro holding up protest sign scribblings with the women, his scenario made only scenery for his surroundings, barely conscious of his condition, flabby and weak, underneath the flag of imperialist elites, shivering like prostitutes in the streets, hollering out, "I CAN'T BREATHE, I CAN'T BREATHE!", makes you want to kill

Something about the drum that beats inside the vacant loft of so many souls
Something about the sun that melts anger and harassment into murder
Something about those who integrate to separate that seems desperate and temperate
Something about those who emigrate to be overseen by dark angels spinning like tops
controlled by evil princes makes you want to kill
Something about my very existence insisting that I kill
My varied existence
The very reason that they kill

Peace be still!

My meditation
Now is not the time
Ever aware that there is a time
A time 2 kill.

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