Fly-corpses in fluorescent purgatory, garrisoned in glass panes in the ceiling. Courageous crow-- unafraid dark eagle-- chips at crusts on asphalt, beside stilled car and tire. Running mouths' regrets.
This is black.
Below standards, below steel, sheen, and structures, below expectations. Drunken politics and political incorrectness over pints and dregs. Underbelly society. Smoke and beats, vibrations. Shouts as whispers, philosopher pressed close to the eager, intoxicated impressionability of a writer.
"Self-identify. You are that motherfucker."
This is wisdom found underneath.
Chewed cigarettes. Counted floorboards. Fingerprints dried in throw up. Soapless handwashing. Filth in foyers and hallways. Finished, unfilled rum bottles in unfilled, unfinished refrigerators. Pleasure-providing before passing out.
This is control lost.
