He Wore Death

He Wore Death


He wore death casually slung over his shoulder...
like some cheap dish rag from a greasy spoon.

Always ready, like some loyal pet, to deliver a…
wipe, rub, or a whack.

His eyes were as steel drums and his heart like a stone coffin…
a human form without soul, compassion, or feeling.

His voice was the rumbling sound of terror…
a horrifying concerto of crashing floodwaters, raging fires, and roaring tornados.

He wore a nauseating blend of malice, intolerance, and brutality
like an expensive cologne.

His laughter was the discordant sound of destruction…
a terrifying symphony of flying bullets, exploding bombs, and dripping blood.

He wore like silk suits, Italian loafers, diamond rings, and gold watches…
a successful display of long-term violence in impressive proportions.

I saw him, this man who wore death so casually…
like some cheap dish rag slung over his shoulder…from a distance.

Suddenly, this stoned hearted, steel-eyed, intolerant man looks at me…
and I stand…frozen in fear