your beauty betrayed by the mind.
I see you sitting,
the clouds once looming in your eyes even if only the light of law.
Your stubble and skin and slick mane of hair,
the fury once bursting in your face
replaced by dead fluorescent lighting.
Your clothing must have been pikced out for you,
as if you were a child,
For in that blue and white-striped shirt
I see your innocence and glee.
What are you looking at Jeff?
Are you pondering the waste your life was?
Is your mind sighing, recalling those you
did or could have killed,
those boys, my god, how stealthy youth can be!
Those boys who trampled down your stairs,
slam slam slamming on those stairs,
as if by destroying stairs they could destroy you?
Jeff, please, please don't regret such past.
It was your life's work,
you put yourself into your work
Every little droplet of sweet saliva, dulcet blood
and salted sweat coming from your heart, not multiple glands.
Look not there, my dear Jeff,
though those stone green eyes
may wander to that dark, accustomed place.
If I can see your beauty and appreciate it, dear, so can
the corpses of the 17 people you left dead, whom helped you live.
