by c. purein
6 meals away
from anarchy
hard cracked nails
eyes burned my conscience
how does she do it
dirty in the sand
bare necked
iron grip on
1 dollar
or was it
1 loaf
1 beer
1 dream
it was nothing
god bless
there were 5 more
but
starbucks is
a block away
and i need
my fix
we’re all junkies
stop texting
and
i’ll tell you
about it
brother,
can you spare
the time
Categories: Poetry
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