Now I’m sweatin’
bullets
a machine gun
without aim
shootin’ at
trees
shootin’ at
walls
with the enemy
army behind
in a city so
unclean
dirt in the subway
rats in the street
a street with
holes
so deep you drive
through canyons
lined with trees
and red rock
out in the desert
which is flat and
expectedly barren
but really has
abundant growth
of rainforests
with striped
tigers running through
running, leaping,
dodging trees
maneuvering as
fast as jet planes
as fast as bullets
that they seem to
sweat
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