Skid row junkies shuffle dance like broken bears
They smile spoiled milk and stink of stale sweat and rotted cloth
The zombie nation has risen
Semi stiff cardboard men – flaccid humanity face down in the gutter
Hostile corners teem with cockroach people
Knives half shut with disgraceful wings
Blood is brown clotted on the lips
Of scarecrow men with hair on fire
Three overcoats wrapped around breathless bodies
Dull drunk and frenzied sober faces
Searching for significance
Thirsty souls on a death mission
Dance the tremens for a sawbuck blow
Every bindle stiff who can lift his lids
Eyes you up for the short prize
“Can you spare some change… “
And why are you here?
Did you get lost?
Are you passing through, or have you joined the congregation of the cockroach god?