Sao Paulo’s streets drip with tears.
Drugs are
blood, money is a god
with heroin
and sex for sale.
I am the
face of humanity
everyone
denies
I'm seventeen.
There is no
pain. Everything hurts.
Individual
abuse means nothing.
Crime,
contamination, cruelty
chemicals,
castration, churches
catholics, christ, christianity
crucification.
In the favelas, brothers and sisters die
one every
six hours.
The fucking
dogs bite at my flesh
when I sleep.
They lap up
the blood of the dying
and the dead.
Corruption,
the cops lick it up
then suck it
in
as though
they
were never
young.
I’d hang
from this cell window
if I could. The only escape,
from the street of tears.
Poem Rob Kennedy, art Angelo Madrid
Poem Rob Kennedy, art Angelo Madrid
