like the tracks
on a junkies' arm
flowing with filth,
this is the big shitty.
streets paved with hate
puddles of anguish
drain into sewers of lost hope
and the stench
of urban decay
is cloying and palpable.
Graffiti reads like epitaphs
on unattended plots
flickering neon pallbearers
carry the corpses
of the cell phone dead
hooded zombie youth
with nothing to fear
subsumed into the canker
on lifes underbelly
legions of the lost
not wanting to be found.
Subvert city
a land of guilt and money
and the home of the grave
