my friend struggle

confusion, blood, redemption,
scars, hate, balance,
the jungle and the desert,
the gun and the word

The cold and the heat,
the empty belly,
the bread and the cock-roach in it

The smart survive:
the strong and the weak die,
together, diversely,
a multi-cultural cluster-fuck of nihilism

If you haven't guessed it,
I've guessed what this society has in mind for me
(in its mind of eternal monotony,)
and I'm feeling ugly

That's okay:
I'll write napalm-cluster-fuck poetry