Graffiti

Stuck in my mind like a bird I a cage,
Flapping wings beat my ears like a drum,
I’d love to yell but I don’t have the rage
And I could sing but I don’t know a song.
The white of the page is scribbled on,
Backlit by hieroglyphic pencil scratches,
The grey marks of erasure are carrion,
Bold sharpies mark where it matters.
Unbearable bleeding in chemical black,
A flourish of life seeps from a wall,
In an elegant voice these marks shout back
"We're all doomed ass-cunt fuckballs!"
The bustling machine wears its skin in the light
Its true colors are the mark of a sinister night