Bodies on Concrete

Blue bodies on cold concrete;

mildew grazing up against dehydrated skin

soaked with liquor and caffeine.

Adrenaline replacing purpose,

rent replacing homes.

Counting down on chipped and gnawed-off fingernails

how many hours left –

Quickly passing drinks and secrets.

This is no party,

this is no ball,

this is simply a gathering of souls –

not minds –

to collect and feel

when nowhere else seems possible to exist.

Those buildings with bricks and bosses

don’t exist.

Those homes with mothers and burnt cast iron

don’t exist.

Not even the bodies exist;

they lay motionless against the cold concrete,

bodies gone blue.


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