[[ faking suicide for applause ]]

basic needs
on rusty city streets -
moments stolen
even though they're filled with pain.
always begging
while synthesis of yr angry spit
is happening so helplessly
unwanted.

intestines well wrapped.

are you hidden
/from the inside/
on the daily route,
among small-minded
lack of beauty,
in the name of
simply getting on
the other side thats numb?

decline
all possibilities of
naming some deliverance
in
future.