Inner Justice

Outer Justice is mostly
pomp and shit anyway.

I have worn blue for a
year for love and

Shaved a few heads
for mistakes

And scarred myself
like Jonny Depp.

Played every record
I loved,
and wailed it under
at least one
Lilac moon.

And by rivers burned
all manner of
Bible, joint, virtue,
spirit, endeavour and
friendly fire.

You can police the lines
or let them take you.
That’s more or less what
that therapist said.

He said he wrote in some soft,
warm retreat he
built down south somewhere
and it inspired me then
before I had read any Bukowski.

Doesn’t mean shit to me
since reading him.

How’s that for justice?