A free verse poem depicting a city in poverty.
Idiots bubbling over into the raggedy, oily street.
Laughter from misshapen mouths festering toward me.
Tawdry minions of meth jolt in and out and in,
With chemicals juicing brains like melon pulp.
Scents of tires and rusty iron steam.
Sirens howl like rabid wolves, disturbing all.
Mad dogs bark, day in, day out, like wounded demons,
Eagerly they wait for tainted bait, arsenic's glory.
Syringe's lay with rubber straps on splintered ally hatches.
Fences lean, broken posts protrude like brittle bones.
Children, "some day's winos", play with sticks of fire,
While birth givers pass out on dirty stoops.
Car windows open, snow falling, engines cranking.
New neighbors, still losers, growl with empty accusations.
Submit to forced sleep ... days end.
Shots fired, worthless breathers wither.
Morning issues insanity's hungry claws.
"Off to court, you blasphemous toads!"