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Shinobu
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Violence House
I came up out
of the Violence House with
blood and piss streaming
down my legs with
fists clenched white
on the inside,
jeans rust stained,
taut, and clinging tight.
And in the dazzling sun
of the afternoon, I emerged
to a verdant field, green
and strewn with
the broken parts of a dream
I had, of a car
that could take me away,
away,
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away.
Well, the years go by
and I feel all right.
I can work my job
sometimes I sleep at night.
I can drink
and I can dream.
But in my dreams
I don't want to be dreaming,
because I dream dream dream
of the Violence House.
I dream dream dream
of the Violence House.
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