I Flipped You Over For The Last Time Poem by James McLain

You nodd into Gomorrah, you smell
my lip move, your hand unwinds
like the rubber, around your arm.
Sp each was for yesterdays reliance
on this vomit puked room.
Your head hung is no match in
internment it's bubbles shinny march
across your chin
dripping.
Sodom left traces not only on your arm.
The great city once your mind is now only
Babel's lost in time, bones catered
pressed by sand it's mother.
I know, statistics say you are lost, I never
go with them, yet political correctness
strokes me now... ssoooo..
I stick it in, to the hilt, and press the plunger
filling you with sleeps warmth, one last time...
Not getting caught so it is legal...
So is water boarding...and...and....and...and.
I flipped you over one last time because.......
it was legal.....