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 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