everyone a rose

[deros_says]

terror is a belly swollen,
by lack of a meal, solitary
crumbles of frijoles dipped
in collected sweat
and milk.

terror is also a cricket
rubbing his wings in your shoe.
the olive pit of guilt,
duality of human humility
and filibuster stopwatch power,
probing the folds of one's stomach.

yet it's this very tower
of hickory emptiness
and impermanence,
that gives a rose its grit.
tough as bloody knuckles,
soft as a crayon whisper,
pinned in the slow hands
of every child
trapped in a shit hole resturaunt.