Poetry By Jambo Stewart

If the kitten fears the burn

I think I’ll take a turn
We can butt heads
Pull at threads
Rile up the mob
Then sit back, smoke
Complain about the job
We can drink to oblivion
Sell drugs to St. Trinians
Fly in the faces of those with mind-rot
Like a decade ago
In case you forgot
Throughout all these years
I really thought you’d learn
I don’t bury, I cremate
So go and choose an urn

Originally posted in Writer’s Fight Club