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103º with air so dry, the sun boldly flaming, torching, and cracking Earth. this temperature only increased by the beating hearts and the flowing sweat of people fleeing. this temperature raised more by the bullets shot, to bring them back, to tie them to this smoldering rock. devils pass on leaving a wake of fire. and among the fallen sits a boy alive, at 103º with air so dry your tears evaporate, why bother to cry.

Street Rat's Manifesto Vandalism on a bland city wall, A vulgar scar slapped on pristine edifices with apathy. Sense terrorism dropped around the numb world. The sort of antics you hate. Art on a street corner canvas, The beautiful kiss performed from colored dust to concrete. Visual communication preached in a public forum. The kind of act we love.

I’d like to fix things I would like to go back Just a few days And bite my tongue, Hold it down until I bleed; I’d stitch my mouth shut, say no words, Make myself listen to everything. I would like to go back Just a couple weeks And put my feet in cement, Let it set and cure. I’d chain myself from wall to wall To keep me there. I would like to go back Just some months or so And take a picture filled with smiles To hold onto to remember The good times had. I would like to go back Just two years Hold that picture  and answer with No Turn it down, turn away from it all To save us from this hurt we feel