Evictions, Chris Rusak 2016

Dear I fear my time here is chafed
The cameras have arrived
The signs erected
Trucks file in; boxes out
A world has discovered

They say I will ruin
Destroy their hood
Smash their piece
With my being; jaggy stone
Nicked to a fabric

Prices skyscrape
Simple savings scratched
For a stake, admissions
In places swagged
By hip, by common

Here, nothing. A dryness
A competition for
For anything, for attention, for
For work, for anything, for
For chances, for anything, for

There, something. A fabric
A community for
For ruin, when I arrive, they
Say, are we not the same
Not the same, the same

To work. Us for them, too
Arrive home, say anywhere else
Them here though, no
But there, no
Dear, we fear
It’s just this fear, dear
(It’s just this fear, dear)
It’s just, dear. It’s just

¶ 2016·07·07