the billboard reads
america is dead
and it feels like the truth

on foot again
feels good

not like l.a.
always comfortable
behind the wheel

back to the war
not the one in the desert
fought by drone rockets
and invisible bombers

my personal war
for a small piece of the street

ITS CALLED A CROSSWALK

for walking
not stopping

IT'S CALLED A STOP LINE

where your car
is supposed


wait

you clueless heartless cruel bitch
a homeless man handing you a card telling you he's a deaf/mute and asks for a small piece of your generosity

he's not selling you anything

unless of course
you charge for compassion

i suppose not
you don't have any

your fucking yuppie
comfortable fat ass
wrapped up warm and tight

below zero temps
like your fucking cunt

fuck fuck fuck
die
selfish materialistic whore

don't find yourself sleeping on a sidewalk
you might need help from someone like you

this world looks like shit because people exactly like you.

and me