I bleed the City.
With shards of rejection in my veins
The fury, the heartbreak, the
Slamming of gates.
A human wall, of
Purified hands, closing in, shutting out,
Spewing fumes of vile smugness.
I bleed the City.
The cradle, the earth,
Glass bowls that
Rock babies, among gravel and green.
Passed around communal arms, eyes taped
With certainty, stunted by fawning,
Inspecting sodden roots,
While new leaves are snipped off
For daring to be fresh.
I bleed the City.
The fabric I carry, the honks in my
Head; the corners of childhood, neon signs that scream
No, the stripping of self, divesting of entity.
Hurled into a morass of the unknown and
Unknowing, the joy and the light frame my
Dark core, the bounty that decorates
Crumbled pieces of
Heart.
I bleed the City.
I bleed the City.
Through lumps in the throat and knots in the spirit
May my ministrations redeem me.
Vox populi