ArgusMadur

ANCHORS i am an anchor with a bottomless pit to hang my foes in a garden of life i'm in the wake of the waters Beneath the waves tumbling And forming my mother's death i am an anchor with cement flooded cars your hair is missing and i've thought about it every once in a while its been a while since i've been down in a shadow Noise and blues depress my tongue These thorns are purple And these plates of paper glass I write some deaths Fermented sighs and combustable grins Mark the words of these sins This is where i put my fire up in this trailer park and its my dear matriarch who will be clenching the flames they're eating

The Professional Argus Madur April 1939             It feels as though I was already shot in the head. The gun kissing my right temple has been resting there for about 20 minutes now. The weight of the man holding the gun has given me a headache near my left temple. My ears feel muffled. Men are tearing apart my office and all it feels and sounds like is someone is eating my brains. I can feel how red my face is. Maybe it is because two hours ago, I was opening up a bottle of Bodegas Fostino wine, and an hour later I sat watching as the empty bottle broke on the floor. That is when these three men broke through my apartment door. I knew why