War[fa{r]ed}

I was told this evening 

to be a success 

in my life as it stands 

I must exercise 

warfare of

a psychological nature:

I must streetwise 

you sad and 

streetwise you bad

and lie to you

and fuck you over

and leave behind

the weakest souls.

And all told hurt and 

twist and curt

and short and trap

and that tad made up. 

And there is no more

you may say to 

me

how.

There is no more 

I can do for 

you

now.

There is no love

in 

what 

you have

done.

But neither no 

want I can

possibly express any

more for the sore 

and tawdry

time I now have left.

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