We deal with over-population through starvation.
Use empty paper cup as wallet for tourists to fill on hot day in June when guilt of privilege is at its height.
Press metal over rubber beneath sneakers and tap for change on 3 train toward Brooklyn.
Walk onto benches wearing bed bugs and carve middle name into third panel because you forgot how to spell the first one.
There is red static projected over brick and if you watch, notice the dogs curved over breathless body.
The dandelions are delicious, though something in that wish wears away my lifeline.
As I cross the street, notice the man slicing death into his neck.
