In Cold Blood

It is not easy

to take a life

because, in all naturality,

a life does not wish

to be taken. A life festers

on it's blank slate, artificial

desires seated beside it. One on

one side, another on the other.

The life sits there and waits on

a train to pick them up and

bring them Elsewhere. The life

may speak on occasion with the desires

waiting with them to be

swept away on that filthy metro

littered with graffiti. But the life

will not accept a sudden mugging,

banger attempting to take

their wallet with a knife,

or a gun, or a something that

steals without warning. Thievery

is the worst sin. You steal a virgin's petals.

You steal a truth and replace it with a lie.

You steal a life, because

it's just there.