Trap House
The stench of piss, vomit, and feces
immediately hit my senses
as I step over dirty syringes
and white, powdered filled baggies
the imperfect combination
of junkie and overdose
the drool dripping out of their mouths
and the sight of eyeballs rolling
into the back of heads
I see the hookers who parade around
in their birthday suits
who's bodies resembled that
of a skeletal corpse, and of course
who can forget the music
that shakes the exterior
of a cracking foundation
half-dead bodies moving and grooving
to the sound of a repetitive beat
but the irony out of all this of course
is the transaction.....
the meeting between men
the sell of deadly prescriptions
and the lost of finances
only to repeat its licentious cycle again
but this is nothing.... it's actually quite normal
in the stomping grounds of the ghetto....
Copyright © Antonio Ball | Year Posted 2015
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