She shits by the alley wall, finishing she sighs her enjoyment
She stares down at it and muses at her artistry
She smears it with her foot and smirks greedily
Back in New York she shits on a canvas
She names it “beautiful danger”
She sells it to a stuffy bureaucrat for 2,500 dollars and change
That’s before she met her manager
He tells her, he’s a pure art connoisseur
He offers her a slick espresso to change her direction
Just that one time, she was hooked
This artful aficionado drooling on her colorful bustier was now her faith
Life brought her pennies and she draped them across her eyes and tempted death
Now they live in the coolest part of town
According to him
Smiling, remembering, she spits out mucousy blood
And barks at the cars passing by,
Their exhausted fumes color her taste for this lived in city
Her fumigated gaze shows her the nice glistening strings of purple haze
What an artiste?! So he calls her “Chokora”
Hatred swirls on her face
So many ugly names come to mind- “watch stealer”, “people raper”, “soul devourer”
But he’s not so bad, he’s still insists on nurturing her talent
He rapes her then allows her to pen her story
Next to her Shit painting, she writes
“Spit” “Push” “Grunt” “Shove” “Satisfied” “Grunt” “Bugger off”
Story of her life
She sits more and stares harder
At the spit he just drowned her disgust in
Car after car passes by in a cloud of iridescent visions of glue heaven
He remembers her, turns her over “smack”
The wailing baby demands, she feeds one her breast
And fucks the other
This is my final destiny, my cool waters city
With roads leading to nowhere
Skull capped danger lurking by the gutter, tire iron ready
Over suited men typing on Midnight computers
Writing up the dreams that will always rub against myth
Fighting alongside reality to make good on a distant future
He lets her dream of her freedom
“Grunt” “sigh” he arrives
He spews more seed, more madness into her
In the dark he calls out to his brother, it’s no bother for him
“Shove” he turns her around “push” harder against the wall
She opens up her thighs to yet another
He collects his dues and lets them
Massage the clitoris of her reality
Ever complacent she shifts baby to her other breast and turns over
Remembering the Espresso she drank long ago with her parking boy
Snorting, she decides, It was all worth it

© ami jasho