glass is hard and unforgiving as

it cuts, scrapes and shears off

strips of supple, sinful skin

air is wild, unruly as it tears through

tight-wrapped hair, throwing caution

to it’s self-made wind.

blood is free, spilt from

knicks and knacks and coats

the coming street.

screams are shrill, unrestrained, caught

in blue murder, bloody pain, at this

unnatural thing.

cars are ants grown fast into antelopes

signs are flicks of colour, showing a language

now futile, lost.

concrete is the end and the start;

a gameover- but blissful; lust.


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