Dirt
Shotguns make big holes, teachers forget what it’s like to learn, and the subway always smells like piss. Life is full of certain truths that are non-negotiable. Now we step inside the arena. I sketch broad strokes… When I speak about my passion for steel, my mind jumps around like a bum on fire. Hard edged? I guess so. Nice guy? I never said I was. What about you? You got eyes on you too. Can you shrug them haters off you? Can you go in any direction—North, South, East and West—and still remember you are a member of the most brutal species this world has seen? Can they defeat you? Can they beat you? There is a difference between the two, you know. I feel the eyes on me. I smell the fear on these bitches. Some talk hard, but when it’s time to get it poppin’ they’re ghost. No matter what happens we walk hard. **** that… WE STOMP. We slap faces that have traces of smart ass. We walk together, an ARMY of soldiers. In the game to rip off the top half and let them know that the law of the jungle is the only code that matters. We eat dirt so the rest of the world knows that they don’t own hate…
