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Mr New-Yorker

Cracked concrete, soaring sky scrapers Hundreds of shoes patter across the ground Designer summer collections of 1988 worn by many Horns chant an uncomfortable song And the streets, littered with humans, cars and buildings, can barely feel the sun. A Georgio Armani Suit can be seen in the crowds, Double-breasted, jet black. It's cool style attracts attention in the midday sun, as does it's owners confidence. Expensive product makes his deep brown, perfectly slick hair appear black. His unidentifiable expression intrigues many, a certain smugness lies within it. His confident, conceited business strut reflects his situation; A successful, handsome commodities broker with a blood spattered rain mac in his $3,600 Ralph Lauren briefcase.
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Written by
scarlett-powell
Welsh
Published
Jun 18, 2012
Lines·Words
19·113
Notes

My poetry interpretation of the book American Psycho, based on Patrick Bateman.

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