Wednesday, March 10, 2010


Before the letters curled,
thoughts curled up for good at the sight of bare teeth with coffee stains. And ugly swollen eyes that tell your age
Now the mind must sleep as tomorrow seeps in

and a gnawing lurks outside the door.

But, perhaps its good to know the streets are safe no more. Clutch your cross and travel underground. Lest tentacles sprout of the alien beneath the skin and point at make shift bedrooms on the street, or the bulging belly of the dusty child at your feet.

And drugs on days encore And nights that end no more

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