Thursday, October 2, 2014


Skipping stones
On bits of broken glass.
The city is dirty
And ragged.
The smell of industry and oil.
The washed out color palette. 
Don't share.
Take what you can.
Steal when you need to.
No one is here to help you
While you escape the rain
Under the trusses.
Fend for yourself 
Forgotten Soul
While the city tries to
Retch you out. 

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