The grey blue color of winter skies,
And woolen clothes hiding flaccid thighs;
Of stop and go and pump and grind ‘em,
Of stop and go and pump and grind ‘em,
Of shallow
youth and callous mayhem;
Of guns like
coins in pockets hidden,
In yards of
schools where once forbidden;
Jackhammers
drilling and corporate shilling,
The waters
flowing with toxins killing;
Of shedding
off the skin of daylight,
And stresses making heart and lips tight;
Of flipped on
switches birthing squares yellow,
The lives
beyond seeking moments mellow;
Of calls from
strangers with garbage to sell,
In hours of
respite where persons dwell;
Of times
despairing and sound bites swearing,
That life is
ending and no one’s caring,
While night time
shadows in bedrooms massing.
Yet one more
day in a life that’s passing.
