I will admit, if pressed for time,
That Graffiti Artists make telling points,
Expressing their fragile selves sublime
While pulling on apocryphal joints.
It's hard work peering round threat-laden corners,
Snatching moments that fashion the ego;
Time's their enemy, these spraycan performers,
Not the dying curse of autumnal Dido.
The self's dominium is rampant, supreme,
It worships Cartesian worlds of reason,
So sod off CCTV, I'm what I seem -
New life ablaze in the growing season.