As a young man I hid my spray cans and stencils
Inside a black canvas backpack under my bed
And sprinted between shadows
From tenements to train tracks
Corrupting and claiming walls
And I called the city mine.
I’d wake between the cracks of bricks and sidewalks
Stretch my skin across a concrete canvas
And preach in colors
Turning grey to gold
My portraits were promises
And the city was all mine.
I stood from building-tops and billboards
Painted prayers flowed along the alleys
And the stars were spotlights
Over derelicts and dumpsters
Turning with time
And the city died and rose again.
Sebastian Clarkin 