Don’t Look Back


this drags on and on.

The slow burn,

the sickness touch.

Keeping intimate and fair,

at least in that the hate is equal.


Never asked.

Never told.

Try to be somebody.



Rejected applications.

Fired up,

cocaine residues.

A past backed

by dollar bill inner tubes.


Grasping at straws

has always been

my favorite game.

Never was a gambler;

too cheap,

too dumb,

too far gone, motherfucker.


They tried to bring the lie

and accuse me,

but I made them my truth.

My hand is destiny,

I am no savior,

I’m the ultimate traitor.



turning a blind eye


shows what you can’t deny.

No cellophane.

No latex skin.

Bare back and raw again.


Get paid.

Get fucked.

Forsake the amateur shit.

Become professional.

Either you make it

to the end,

or you’re lost

somewhere along the way.


No chance.

Can’t recover.

Too many scars.

But I keep coming back,

tasting the ashes,

as if they’ll take away

the taste

of bitterness.


Of defeated heroes.

of a promise that I made,

to myself,

but I burned it down

with everything I love inside.

I can still hear the screaming

in my head.

Too far gone,

past the afterhours light.

Oh, my God;

it’s happening again.


HG – 2018

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