you look like hell

knives

we leave by the dawn

with miserable tones our

backbone.

we dry our lives and our wallets

of excess because of the

love for what we have 

here, how we feel here,

who we have to love in 

this mess.

a tire flattens and you

yell at your brother, whether 

by flesh

or by blood or 

by fraternity of the art.

dollars fall through the cracks of 

dedication as impressionable

ears fall deaf and eyes 

are blinded by 

us.

leave your plastic cities and

screen prints you white-washed 

tombs.

pop culture enthralls and surrounds

not only the least of these

but the just

and the 

unjust.

whimper away to corners with

your and my pride and 

misunderstandings of this 

hidden society.

we have no place for

arrogance.

we have no place for

you.