Bolshy Droogs

Written after reading A Clockwork Orange. I was maybe 13? A messed up kid lol.

Bottle caps and baseball bats with nails aligned-they're a sign
of television decisions leaking through manicured revisions
of sand. And I cannot stand to hear their cries like
howls from their bowels wrenched in pain.
Their hands stained or maimed by
the lies the size of the blood-
red skies that luminate
their world-worn
and youthless,
abandoned
eyes.