Showing no mercy
These streets are cold as ice
Blood sweat and tears
They cost you years
Or your Life
I want you to keep moving
With your head high
No more losing
Using to get by
Your going to get that treatment
I know you can defeat this
Precious is your soul.
… via India — Ankov Travels via India — Ankov Travels — wolf4915
Source: India — Street Photography
I’m beautiful with Audacity, “They call you Shade?!” He said. ” You’re shaded indeed…”. She’s nice with the raps. In depth, the homies in disguise he liked to say…
I’m up many hours before the sunrise to explore myself. Dreaming of fleeting escape, no longer trapped. The raindrops scatter my city and it won’t be long before I’m unseen in the masses; trainbound. You don’t need fare for the Zion train just hop on board.
I’m beautiful with audacity indeed. I love my markers and spray paint; my skateboard and my slap sticker collection of winking flowers and dripping calligraphy. My magnum markers leave them to manage the damage; I’m constantly redecorating the City.
I’ve found my comfort in the dark places and euphoric ignorance. Through the streets and alleyways, trains and buses. I watch this shit twists and turns over many years amongst this science of drug trade and gentrification . It doesn’t take long to be immune to the needles scattered along the pathways, human feces and drug trade swap meets. We got it. And it’s all for sale.
“Come here girl…”.
I found my home in the streets at a young age; my concrete playground. I’ve found… something… I see something. The streets are yours was the message written along the tattered wall. I want nothing from it, perhaps peace or a sense of purpose. Surely not money nor a drug rush, I have left such in the past.
Just “Be easy going,”.