Throw Up!

Montana can in hand.
Black latex barrier.
Respirator: Necessary.
Black needle spray cap, the finisher.

Going over the existing bomb.
This junk is better.
Fat caps.
High pressure.

Background set.
Layered: Big Mac.
Give me the needle.
Why not rest in peace.

Sprayed the streets.
Peacefully with paint.
Speaking to my pith.
You created the most alive, dead walls.

My futile bombs.
Look on in envy.
Oh, "King of I-95."
Forever thrive.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem