Prison paintings
Of pop stars
In leather jackets.
Guitar strings broken
Buckles swing,
Boots kick the pain,
Smiles and blood,
Bloodied teeth
Heroes of walls
Covered in words,
Chosen bricks
And full-moon faces.
Tired knuckles,
Fingers dipped
In shallow streams
Of ideals, gone dry
Shiny faces,
Crying, smiling,
Saying, screaming,
Paint is gold.
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