X

until the abandoned buildings are finally forsaken even by the homeless and the vagrants and the downtrodden and the disenfranchised,

until all the spray cans are empty and the last black sputters have dripped down my fingers,

until the hot sun above has scorched my skin and the dark underground has chilled my bones,

until the heavens are opened up for me, or hell has wrapped its fingers around my soul,

until everything makes sense, or everything is finally rendered meaningless:

Blessed be the walls in this city, the beautiful ones and ugly ones, the walls that give warmth, the walls that receive markings and spray from the artists and gangsters; blessed be the walls, until the day that they fall.

headhands?

no apologies

she was almost as black as the night
and her eyes were clear;
her eyes judged all things.
her hair caught highlights here and there
from the street-light behind her,
and clouds came from her mouth when she spoke.
“oh no,” she said when I told her my name,
“that’s his name,” she said.
(the guy who was the asshole
had the same name as me)
Otherwise she was nice to me
and her smile was bright,
except sometimes it went away
and then there was pain in her eyes –
the pain of memory
as she explained things that
I felt like I shouldn’t hear.
I think she told me because she knew
tomorrow I’d be gone.
Where am I now, _______?
Where are you?
(I forget your name...)
have you decided whether or not to smile?