There in the ghetto,
rising with the pain,
it is as if the one deprived of consciousness—
targeted by ignorance, ego at the helm,
was born to anger—
there, where raw emotion rules,
there the roots are suddenly exposed,
the unctuous light prevails, sardonic
in contempt of an intruding day.
The night is queen,
her reign upon the sodden street perpetual;
the housetops' failure to release...
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