Graffiti - Royce Wood Junior, Shirazpapi

The Changelings had shrouded you in mystery

The kind you prefer

You insisted on me

But you’re AK’ing holes in my last clemency

I’m a human only

I can be rickety

Sweet opaque angel

This sounds like a fable

You’re simply unable

To exist in peace

The pockets of sunshine

Defined by your star signs

Could be really good

It’s so nearly good

Maybe really good

Maybe next week

You say that your apple falls far from the tree

It’s a cider town

But an unfruitful dream

And if all straight and narrows are this crumply

Are we urban art

Or just graffiti?

The buildings are run down

Electric is running out

The wrecking ball looks out

At 88 ivories

If a thing’s looking splendid

You shouldn’t have to mend it

Could be really good

It’s so nearly good

Maybe really good

But not till next week