THREE POEMS
APOCALYPSE CONFIDENTIAL
Pugilist It’s me and you inside a drunkard’sdream. where teenage boys dissectan ouroboros on the asphalt of thehigh school parking lot. They aren’tboys, they’ve grown non-newtonian,they’ve grown five stories tall likethe gundam figurines in their room.Like a pair of disembodied boxinggloves. Attached to no one savethe notion of sixteen-bit violence. It’s me and you underthe … THREE POEMS








