Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Through The Looking Glass, turquoise hues
your eyes filled with hapless blues

Between my hand and yours, unspoken barbed wire
under glossy fingernails
it is us who are emaciated and dire
I hunger
while you swallow fire

Drug pushers
opium pullers

Coffee and condensed milk, condensed streets
to a soundtrack of Ghetto beats
the East and West meets.

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