Long walks with my temper
Take me down a dead end street
In contemplation;
Where do we start at the end?
Before I could collect myself
I'm vacuumed in by a figure's armspread
With fiery gasps of iron-air
Cornered in my circle of friends
Won't he speak to you?

Emptied on the floor
Were the shells of my defenses
Placing in his own
Bullets of condescendence
Those people shafted me
Of my social weaponry