Tunnel Vision

Look inside

I have never been so angry in my entire life.I'm traveling south on
a bus,with a trail of blood smeared behind me,bodies in my wake,
and flashes of violence whenever I close my eyes,but nont of it cuts
through the rage.There are black marks on my neck,wrists,and anles,
cust on my face and all over my even-leaner-than-normal body,and
a furrow of ruinedflesh from a gunshot wound on my left side.Packed
gauze and stolen pharmaceuticals aren't the only things keeping me
held together.Rage is why I'm alive,and it's carrying me south hust as
sure as this bus in.
   Making you living as a criminal coms with its own list of unique risk,but
I never thought that I'd be the one coming down on the wrong side of  a setup.
Call it naivete or whatever else you want,but I was sure I had myself in a good place,
and the only way I was going to get burned was by someone I trusted.I knew that
was possible-there were no illusions for me-but when it happened even my black
little soul was caught off guard.
    "Sorry,"Gary said to me,like that mattered when I was staring down the barrel of
a shotgun and getting cuffed and being sent in off the books to a crooked juvenile
internment camp.
   Gary was my dealer,the loser I'd transformed with money and bags of high-grade
marijuana into a kid with confiedence.   Read more....