the juice

chewing the pulp of my days
spitting art and skill on the page
while people fall victims to crime
I sit here and try to rhyme

a middle finger to everything
that tries to stop me from doing this
a silent litany of fuckyous
even if i am just taking a piss

it's all shite, maybe so
but what of it
born from the ground
we all go back into it

and when the judgment comes
you can stay on your knees
while in your mind you wonder
was the juice worth the squeeze

or you can stand up and paste a smile on your face
spit in the eye of the executioner without any grace
put your neck to the blade and tell them to be quick
there are angels in heaven waiting to meet you
--
I think the readers are smart enough to fill in the things that were unsaid.