fire &  blood   making  a city            called   heart  
children,   yeh   call it   open   thinking
           w/ ur hands in these    
beneath   cold   times  of     ugly   reality  
poems written  by  poets      high on the universe;
   inside   boys        coming  
        of age dreaming of being a     wife &  son;  
bad   dreams of   pink snooches
chasing u down an abandoned                    street ;        
           full  of  the faces of      America's                   three   beautiful   great   females;    faces           in the      windows          are                             better &                                    truer ladies             whose
  mouths are           death                   turned   rock                       star  - father,  
sweet   future   american heard  the  *****  gave birth to a holy   child;
a    guy's   soul   painted w/   feel ing  so intense
u can     hear   his skin  scraping         stone   dancing  in  heaven   eating,    drinking w/    blonde   goddesses  
having    ***  w/ people u just  met, the  
gay   kind,             Russian &  smelling  
of   keep   b/c  Igor                      is addicted to    
robot   snooch   these days;  
wet   truth of   hhh blind   lips   writing  w/ yellow  ink;
perfect   club   matter   deep &  late  
              walking &   waiting  for r  Ivan  
*****                  lives   in    walking,                                          running  ­        mothers