351 E. Temple St.

i am tired.

the gray in the lining

of my soul is see-through.

my love is withered and

unresponsive.

no petals in my chamber

for my chamber is a street.

i am hungry and cold.

the fire in my spirit has

smothered its last spark.

the matches of life have

been stolen by proposals

regulations and copper pipes.

my feet no longer carry

dignity and strength.

my arms no longer capture

me at my disgrace.

i am numberless in the

bar code of the beast.

2 thoughts on “351 E. Temple St.

  1. Obrigado, Poeta. Just an observation of so many of our homeless vets in the skid row part of town. The resiliency of the human spirit inspires awe, but a broken spirit is overwhelming to me.

    Like

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