Through the filter of memory
The unreliable projector
I couldn't see a thing in that alley
But you hit me true
Left your bruise
I recall living in a place like this
Among skyscrapers made of  garbage with the floor painted a pleasent ***** green
where the psychopaths roam
Where do you come from?    
Well lit corridors and wide open spaces?            
Fed, washed and clothes clean
in front of the TV and bundled up warm ?  
Didn't you shiver
when those teeth came closer  ?
Did you see the late night screening
of flies on the ceiling?    
Did you have dinner with your mother and father  ?
Get a pat on the head
when your nose started bleeding?
Fist fights and *****
or homework in the evening?
Give me your story
Make it ******* gory