Mean Streets

endorphin spike by april zanne johnson

face carved with chops of an axe
and a razor bladed tongue
ready to slice into you, no glancing scrape
but a swift killing blow through muscle and fat
designed to leave you puddled in your own blood
with muscles hitching and jerking under thin skin
as they move on
what switch was flipped, what circuit was shorted to breed such simmering anger
it is inflicting pain or pain inflicted
the cause, the effect
was it put to vote by an unknown, undefined caucus
or cold careless disposal
no more notice taken of humanity than an unravelling rag doll
tossed away
loosed into the streets
to continue the cutting cycle

*artwork by april zanne johnson*


About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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2 Responses to Mean Streets

  1. April Zanne Johnson says:

    Hello Chimera- I am the artist who created Endorphin Spike that you have associated your poem Mean Streets with. Please contact me via email.

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