Singles Out

public call me street man
I am with no security.
here, I call home
here is where I roam
slick avenues and broken boulevards
newspapers are my daily warmth
brown squares sketch my worth
quilted smiles and sun-dried eyes
I, without no cups of scents
traces of half circles of replenishments
I am with no bread or butter.
with countless whips of society.
I thirst like Christ.
I thirst for Christ.



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