They know I
have what they are looking for
The Austin
courts have denied my appeal
So I'm
Tampa-bound to settle a score
Half-pack of
Marlboro's in my pocket
A handful of
childish ambition
Nowhere to
go and no way to stop it
Praying for
some pills and ammunition
1967 Colt
.45
Sticking out
from my bright orange jumpsuit
Sick and
searching for some way to survive
No money to
eat, no courage to shoot
Nights in a
houseful of tweakers are long
We live in
shadows like the Vietcong
By: Anthony Hall. Mr. Hall is a poet, musician and author from a town called Valrico, Florida. He spends his days screaming at things that aren't there, and his nights screaming at things that are.
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