Philadelphia Mural Arts (rougher draft) SLAM

Philadelphia Mural Arts (rougher draft)

In a city full of people and I haven’t heard from anyone in months mouths moths
With moss thoughts gathered from stones the builders refused on a block
From the boondock part of town
Turning around like focus
My shit is full of digested fingernail and scab
Full of myself
I was cut from a rougher draft with umbilical syllables, the craft
I tried living on the lies and paintchips from murals, the drag
Of people who don’t care about me
I see them in pass and smile in images compiled mirages
I live on the edge of a knife in prosody collages
Where stores corner me for things
Smiling some a dime a dozen frozen
Imposed on a space created for
Sterilizing inspiration where authentic
Is anything you can buy into
Guilt is an organic produce in every color
i'd rather be alone than in an empty room full of no bodies.
these echoes harrow me
A glassy reminder of my hell is a home drawn on
Empty lines of poetry
We call that the spoken word
I passed tense in past tense
Walls
That Philadelphia mural arts covered when they should have torn down
Im taking my axe to a thicket of small glass buildings
Cutting in on a conversation of steel and paper
Excuse me
Union leaders
You desolate figureheads trodden with war
And boundary engulf themselves in a oblique
Canto where the syllables are their wives
Giving birth to local minds words
I speck with a scabbed tongue
Walls of my body keep me out of my own thoughts so I burn skin to free verse
In a city of images with a word on my own tongue only to hold back
What the fuck was I thinking
Hanging around the lynch waiting for a dry
Moment to wet your whistleblowers vagina
They cover the sky like
Cage