In between the cracks of walls are the lones of desecration of the city's institution,
But it is needed.
Handwriting is scribbled like it's graffiti from a 5-year old.
They write poetry on the bathrrom walls down at the library,
Talking about how negroes need to act right.
Asking in blue ink who wants to fuck.
After a piss and shit that reeks,
They paint opinions in Pilot pens to make it so bold and black it offends someone at first sight.

I went there today.
Every line was blurted out by the color of a blueberry slush.

The second desecration.