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 3d Renee C
kevin
The Oxnard building I walk to
Mira says little
The milk of the city turns the dust all day at miras building
The food cart does not show

I walk back the vineyards to the thousand oaks building

Powdered milk prayers
We cannot enter the building
Complete in its abandon from duty, service and allegiance and labor everyway no calls, no lifeline tents in the thousand oaks eye soar.

My tio tells me no awuacates, awuacates!

This is not the internet homekey +

This is our apartment building examination of broken laws


This is our apartment building examination of broken laws
#lapdcentral #lapdhq #mikeytaylor #parisjackson #kendricklamar #kendalljenner #jennahaze #realdonaldtrump #cagovernor #meganhenderso

Lifeline FCC distribution violations in thousand oaks California

No competent

Tambien negra, empanadas in San Fernando valley today?
Palabra Casino
No competent sun rises in my pockets

I will not make it to the Argentina market today mi amor
Te amo

Igualamente street
State the street good to me shoes

The wayside? Mario Benedetti again!
No te salvo

Miguel Angel sola

Jenna better

Kendall, the way of hanging us in our day labors you

Chingon!
Chicana zen
I rest with my hat

Hispanic coalition Angeles los Angeles
Hud

Hispanic coalition Angeles los Angeles
Hud
#meganhenderson #nytimes #rupikaur

Not before the coalition rises to meet with me

Ventura basillica Jenna
These marsh lands I build for you

Catholic charities of Ventura los Angeles incorporated

Entity injury attorney at what law keyboard documents

No lobby no lobby
No home
Bueno

Strange fruit
Billie Holliday

One hour of labor to correct violations of federal law

Los Angeles nightlife
Show business over budget
Indolvent

The national guard cannot here the vocabulary building of corruption
Turn no profit
Push potatoes

Como,  no accent, no doing documents

Grass roots army water rights
Code violations
He will respond to
Are we able so and do this
So and so this
I can do this "engineering requisition area of speech for this inspection"

I am a NASA military engineering research assistant

You get one hour of our ear get engineering to these orders

What do you wanna know
You have to follow my orders or prison

My president has his engineering contractors license

I'm his antenna sat coms devs from japan

Vanderbilt Carnegie steel partners
Ship yards people not lawyers
Real estate recruitment
Piza is leaning

Tambien flash firmware  kits
Elementary os mod1
Don't call on click agency
.mil a quartermaster
Have a penny for Lou Adler boys

I ain't gonna bend again billie

First run at lovely
"It's quite a pretty hell,
quite a pretty hell,"

said the wilting woman
to her plastic window self,

a half-tint fetch, etched
in the eye of the weevil

threading the black dough
of the crosstown bus route.

The nightclubbers behind her
exchange glances and hold hands

as she begins to hum to herself,
but the unvarnished melody

lodges in an angle of odd brain
& soon I'm humming it too

as I step into 18th Street's maw,
already bristling neon sweet

with milkmaid dress hems
threshing ruptured doorsteps -

turning up my street I catch
a last sight of the shushed bus husk

crawling away northwards
with only a scratching hum inside

for its heartbeat, and a face lost
in the catacomb of its reflection.
Harry bends over the grill,
beefy with years of drink
and culled anger,
scrubbing until silver shines,
a bullet waiting for my shift.

He believes if the French Toast is perfect,
she will appear in a halo of steam,
peacoat and Mary Janes,
ready to forgive the life they never had.

Outside Brother Juniper’s,
Peachtree Street is a kingdom of the lost:
druggies, rent boys, drag queens,
pimps preaching Jesus
to the homeless in Piedmont Park.
The smell of grease stitches it all together.

Inside, fluorescent light
makes faces soft as wet clay,
ready to be remade by morning.
French fries sizzle like whips,
blintzes bleed cherry onto chipped plates,

and Tati, round as a blessing,
delivers soup to the sobbing girl
whose mascara becomes a confession.

I clock in,
busting knuckles and boots,
young, stupid,
just trying to keep up with him.
I know he wants her to return.
I know she won’t.
I know he’s getting older.

I watch Harry’s grace and sweat,
watching the city believe
in one last plate of salvation.

At dawn,
he’ll stumble across the street,
feed the jukebox Ray Charles,
and search the sidewalks
for her red hair in every stranger.
I still hold onto your fantasy in my head, tight.
Can you feel the memories at night?
Or are you completely alright?
Do you replay every detail in your head, too?

I believed in your potential even if your damage grew.
I realized they were always there, the clues,
A part of me still wants you to remember though, just for the sake of the blues.

I guess there was no way clear,
Your voice's still ringing deep inside my ear.
I know it'll pass and i'd be healed,
But i can't help and peel
My lips, when i think about everything,

Will we ever get closure or just nothing?
Guess i'll get my tea,
sit on that breezy balcony,
And try to do nothing.
 Aug 6 Renee C
Malcolm
You enter like riddles, all smirk and suggestion,
Unpacking your chaos in well-folded grace.
I pose like a thinker, then fail each confession,
Your presence turns logic to vapor and lace.
No lock ever halts your emotional session,
Just doors left ajar in a self-haunted space
You decorate silence with longing transitions
And find comfort you yearn for in wild heart embrace.

No permits are asked. You just climb and begin,
A vandal of stillness with restless intent.
Each heartbeat becomes your new patch to win,
Your lines bleed through dreams that were never well-meant.
I once thought of solitude as discipline
Now even my doubts wear your pigment and scent.
Tell me, what canvas survives content?

I tried to erase you with breath and revision,
But ink has a way of not asking to stay.
It leans into cracks, takes its own bold position,
Then whispers its name in a sunlight decay.
This isn’t romance—it’s quiet derision,
A mural of “maybe” in permanent grey
I flinch when you line my pallete and color disarray.

Your words write themselves in fluorescent distortion,
With arrows that point where I never have been.
You map out escape like a form of extortion,
Then grin while you scribble the exits back in.
I measure the cost in small acts of contortion,
In sleeping with memories dressed in my skin
Do you ever lose sweet rage condition.,
Or every conversation make you eager to win?

What makes you return with your metaphor army?
Each phrase is a soldier that conquers the night.
You charm like a riddle then turn into “harm me,”
Each vowel a grenade, each promise a slight.
You’ve ruined restraint with your soft origami
I fold into shapes that forgo what is right
And still, I await your next moments rewrite.

So here in this gallery hung in my chest,
You tag what you want, then move on unscathed.
But each mark you leave has outlived every guest,
And none of them asked to be saved.
I smile for the critics, I nod with the rest
But secretly wonder what’s left unengraved
And whether I’m built to live or be repaved.
06 August 2025
The Wall I Never Painted
Copyright Malcolm Gladwin
 Aug 6 Renee C
kevin
Housing urban development is a federal housing law
Not an affordable derivatives market

That's reliant people monies.

John Lewis is a foundation of tenant laws

His hands reach me here in my congresswoman's office now and again
Those is mighty dreamy slippers to fall into
But those aren't your writes yet

I am a former section 8 voucher recipient
we play two rounds of pool.
he beats me twice.
now the air between us
is nothing but teeth and heat—
and in my head
he’s already got me
on the table,
thirsty for every part of me.

he grins, asks
exactly what i’m thinking,
and god,
he’s right—
it is too fast.
a week in,
we’re breathing
nothing but each other.

so i settle into his lap
just to rest my head,
to counteract—
this.
us.

but his mouth
finds mine,
and the world
tilts open.
this one is about the early days, where chemistry is a kind of gravity that swallows everything else.
August 5, 2025
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