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Young Basquiat II

So I make myself a world

I make myself a border

I make myself a people

and become war

and become hate

and become oppression

and become a box

and become a wall

and—

Kadon comes over to me

wraps his arms around me

in a bear hug

Calm down, Young Basquiat

Calm the fuck down—

There are more walls here

We got nothing but fucking walls here—

Ib r e a k

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They said my mural

was against the facility’s guidelines

No gang colors, signs, or symbols

and all I could do

was hold my head

in my hands

and whisper under my breath

Fuck you!

What the fuck were we

supposed to do with that paint then?

Draw more cartoons?

More smiling birds and a winking sun?

Paint more lies?