wow.. i like it i am sorry things aren't going to well for ya.

--
slums which time ignores
where folks use razor blades for toothpaste
and every breath is a holy war
Were you sleeping? Do you hate me?
I've been dozing in the midnight sun
and I've solved all of my problems
Making the many into one
Fatima Mansion

Aye, cool Poem, whereas from the outset to the very ending: the rhythm kept me thinking during the read, and the slanted perception I found here made it all worth engaging with the imagination.

Notably the narrator is the Pariah in this one, nah, I wouldn't disagree, but you Poet, ultimately have the upper hand whereby yer descriptions of extorted images are keen for evoking moody vibes.

Your wording however I see as another quality here all in itself.
It's hellishly delicious, and yer form is great for the blunt core.

Aye, ye've conceived something that I would regard as being somewhat unorthodox, and I find your spin on it, just as deep and entrancing.

But yer turn of phrasing here is what kind of knocked me sideways fer a moment -

'...Torn by what he knows
& by also what he feels
His head pounds
Like a hammers strike
Blows left and right
Poundings get stronger ' --Oh my, now this is almost inextricable, and know I mean that more than in just one’s sense of understanding.

A very solid verse; on all accounts.

Yes, I believe I'm jolly fond of this Poem.

Keep well,

'Anna

wow its so bluntly good