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