ListlessMachine

The first time we met, I kept our distance at minimal, hoping the inches would form a small bridge between us and that one day we could sew each others' limbs when our bones have learned to give up. But I mistook you so severely: your kisses were flesh wounds and your embrace a coffin too tight around my ribs- your hands were never meant for holding. The sheets of skin and whitewash were a cocoon at night as your teeth sink into me; my body of craters and fissure-deep dents close to falling apart inside you

New York City shines With platinum walls With onyx windows With gold smeared Onto the smug rich But below the city, The dripping pipes The homeless tears The grime stuck Onto poor faces A rich man sits in Brightly-lit Broadway On ruby carpets Nose scrunched upwards Due to a new face. A poor man performs in Dimly-lit subway stations On their feet Eyes seeking crowds For a thrown quarter. A rich man inherits An office reaching heaven As he winds his toys Never working enough To earn the coveted company A poor man arrives At the doors of a business Pleading in ragged suits For a job paying minimum To earn shelter from slums New York Cit