Sores Spill the Spears and Daggers

smooth trackers, split daggers, run scars,
concentrate on the concrete
baby you got the dirt
the ground grates cheese of weeding deeds
the wedding of gravel, and grass, meets limestone and odd bits of mardi-gras grass

the dirt is escapance
the sleeves are in debt, the odour has taken
into a sweat,
of sweet malediction, the addiction lies
of ‘roma and rumours, here’s all of the lies