Murder By Proxy Poem by James McLain

James McLain

James McLain

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By

Murder By Proxy



Murder by proxy and your guilt your bed
from the questions,
you would not ask rolling hills of presumption.
What turned you back down the icy
cold steps leading up from the cobwebs
frozen in time
like the clock you last saw it's face made of glass
shattered
my fate thinking it yours, that you last saw, O bovine.

Deep in the night dead people still come.
The old city district.
Historic in worth now known for it's value.
Though those old red bricks keep being
carried away
From the heart of old Tampa and hidden
in graves.
Red tears from the ground of Valdosta.

You carried my body off very far away.
Many so many times I had to leave what was
left of my mind
behind alone in each chamber of your hands
and I rememeber each and every chief a Judge
who saw me of no worth
but your worth from the last one that gave me up
to the next forever they come and I wait.

My virtue as thick as the air that surrounds you.
My heart is now only as strong as you are.
My Morales are as unapproachable as you.
My values I owe to you and in my debt whom are.
My sight is as short as yours was long to see.
What did I have need of sight shut away from
the light in the darkest of pits, where you loved me.
And crystal is hung,
and grey marble hard clumps of clay, you left me.

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James McLain

James McLain

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By
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