| | conscious while
those seams are pulled, skin tones
full of blemish & textures
like worn leathers,
a comfort to the wasted ones.
unlike stained & bug infested
furniture, they sit on the curbside.
the hand-me-downs to the streets,
ill-begotten & by default
unfit for mass production,
on strike with cardboard signs.
reading, "i'm still here, alive."
an establishment of forgotten junkyards.
cozy alleyway bonfires
to cast light on the smiling tooth,
glazed eyes fixated on the bottle.
the feng shui of strays and their shadows
meshed with chain link fences,
black & white paper trails
ruffling to the fog of silver breath
on a shivering night.
unknown deaths like broken glass,
swept up with the litter
of another condemned neighborhood.
the diamonds in the rough left
undiscovered, strangers with cures,
hearts, hopes & broken futures. |
| | Posted 4/7/2009 2:02 AM - 6 Views - 0 eProps - 0 comments
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