rheboks on blocks are ridden across 
cracked concrete—cracked concrete, cultivated 
through careful carnage, conserved 
with controlled coteries, and
recklessly recultivated by
roguish radicals ready to take root

here, howlin’ hoods are on the hunt, head boy,
rummagin’ the rinsed ruins, ransackin’ 
what was once ours, from
the ones who took a piss
out of our futures and…  

You think this can be stopped?

forget it, fam. 

Your city has withered. 

forget fighting and forget forgiveness

allow it

allow all of it and have a laugh.

have a laugh as….

the dead of the worn world decomposes  
to plant the seeds of the new