I sit across you, bad bad man. 
I take back what I say, it’s just that you look like you ain’t in the right place. 
I can smell you from across. 
Like piss. 
And you rubbin yo hands and throwing them to the air as if you have something to show. 
And you nod out, nod out.
So tired you fall asleep in public at 4:27 am, though you catch yourself as you fall.

But the fact that your skin holds your bones, 
I know that there’s blood in your veins 
And thoughts in your mind.

You throw the fits
As you stomp on the empty floor. 
There’s no fire to kill here. 
To kill here. 
But the smell of your sweat swarms me and swarms me. 
You scratch your ass crack 
As another unfortunate man screams on the subway train. 
Who looks at you if they look at him?

Open the doors to trade trains,
But you afraid because you too bad. 
Too bad to make the moves.

The door opens to the stop, and you run,
Though I can smell you through the rest of my travel.

There was something about your flesh. 
So crisp upon you bones. 
Yet thin and laying in a sagging form above your body.

I don’t know how you got here,
And I don’t know how I ended up on this side of the country remembering you.

But you were beauty in my travel. 
Have a good night, my fellow man.

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