Racism

Bathing in the foul mouth
of the city, soaking up the
vibe that is just an illusion of
wellness, eating the shit then
burping it out, into an air that is
far from having the potential to be
one that is leveled, breathable. It
stops on the tops of elementary
school desks, crawls over sleeping
heads, lives inside the muddy
openings of both suburban and
city streets. Hands slap the spots
of its tickle but they always fail
to catch it. And its itch haunts—
eyes drift from paranoia even after
it is gone; searching for another
reason to hit, stomp, scare out the
last bit of sanity left- the bit that
stops almost everyone from
killing one of the other.