(poems go here) you are the hollow point

seething with anger

run you red with paint

crossing fingers like a heavenly saint

this was the end, this was the path.

virtuous and trivial, all the same

between light, between woe

between the indents of your smiles

taking in every blow

this was the beginning

this was the rock.

staring at meadows

while i drag through the streets

fires burning through the Harlem beat

sweat, tears, anger, lust and division

murky air- fixating our vision.

the winter is cold but i smell summer

whisking away the idea

whisking away the shadow

the final act.