Too many….too…too….too much…Loud noises….former in-mates turned outcasts….

Insults……Pissing for territory……Grown men rapping along to a song by a kid….

Some bitch did this……some hoe did that……Yelling out above techtronic beats, Nigga…you best be respctin’ my black-ass, A threat;come through with a hook or a blade?…..who knows.

Always the centers….the shelters….. .Bellevue’s Emergency Room……filled with talk…talk…
talk….talk….talk…..a tough guy’s ballad to all around him, Don’t be Fucking With Me MotherFucker, proving he’s the smartest, the toughest, always proving. 

Loudness… bouncing off slept-in metal chairs….cold tiled floors….walls keeping all in…..away from a now money moving Chelsea…..

Punk Rock died…Bop Jazz passed-away long ago don’t you know…..Replaced with condos….cute pork pie hats worn by kids who’ve never heard of Mingus…..Sorry Charlie…..You’re safe with me…..

Goodbye Pork Pie…..so long Bop….These  past stories and old characters are gone….And there is a loneliness in this current racket….I don’t belong….

Sitting at a drop-in center on 30th….among former inmates turned outcasts….