We spraypainted our noses, teeth and
throats with aerosol fumes and exhaled
the writings on city walls, buses, trains,
even on the graveryards of the dead.
We soon chocked and our lungs quivered
like strings on a violin.
OH, the vandalism!!! They said.
We knew better! We heards the birds and got our answers -
The death of our braincells
makes up for the petty crimes we commited against the
décor of the mondaine.
A l a s, i t' s a l l a bargain, don't y o u t h i n k?
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