Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

Trauma

For My Life

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Prison was punishment

but I can’t stomach it

They put a price on my life

I gotta fight for my life

I broke my left after a right

They rollin’ dice on my life

Lions eat mice in this life

I need a knife for my life

Cuz they’ll stick a knife in my life

Might have to take a life for my life

And I might get life for that life

A lot in my eyes that I hide

Say I’m alright but I lie

Cuz I have a fight, I have pride

On borrowed time while inside

How much time til outside

My neighbor just lost his life

Before he made it outside

Everyday will I see night

Every night will I see light

I thought time had paid that price

But that price could be my life.

Cunning-Linguist

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I don’t need to know your whereabouts or what you’re wearing out

and if you wore it out –

Even if it’s a dress, unless you’re undressed

But there’s one thing we need to get addressed, before you get a dress,

Like, why were you seen leaving his address?

Bed of lies

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Red, rose petals on the bed of defeat

My tongue intertwined between the legs of deceit

Penetrate my delusions on the lies of these sheets

She starts to scream out the side that she hides as she rises to her peak

But before she misspeaks…she peeks

She quiets, tenses & we lock eyes

She comes…

Forward with truth so strong she unlocks mine

Heaves in her chest, flush in her flesh was showing

nothing said, just tides of a melancholy knowing –

Dead, rose petals on the bed of deceit

I morbidly leave, from between, the legs of defeat…

Minutes Uncertain

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1 minute we fight, 1 minute we love

1 minute we hug, 1 minute we shove

1 minute we talk, next minute a fit

A whole minute we kiss

Next minute full of some venom we spit

It’s back and forth, but I put you first

Yet you wear your heart on your sleeveless shirt

So I’ll leave you first, instead of leavin’ hurt.