6 Aug 2015


He speaks only in quotes

Stolen from the last dying breath of the

Greatest living poets

A core of molten lava bubbles and glows

In place of a real human soul

Oh to be a real boy and

Not a fall down drunk

Oh to get up and go and

Not roll around in

All this shit

All the time

And any presence of mind

Has left him abandoned in a

Midnight parking lot

The single yellow streetlight

A spotlight

Over his broken frame

Mistaken for a halo by all those tossing coins

Into the empty brown hat at his feet.