Saturday, April 5, 2014

The Wanderer

Wet Dekalb evening
seeking something with seasonings
crave caught on by the
keef and resin bowl steamin,
when shamblin up the street
my eyes meet with
an alcohol zombie on the scene
bloated from the long years as a fiend,
loosie hung the mouth,
greasy unwashed sheen,
I saw him everyday
blank stare slumped out on the steps
he kinda sneers at me
drinkin on the rum that turned him red.

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