The Corner

The cold corner, mocking me, healing me, destroying me.

The light, the dirty yellow light, casting upon my skin, pallow, washed out.

Skin shows, enticing the predetor, raising goosebumps, showing my destitute.

How? How? How did I get here? My body is their temple... I am not my own...

The dark truck, spewing its venom, creeps up, spies my goods on display.

The cheap motel, stains on the ceiling, smells in the blankets, rats in the walls.

I drift away, I find my utopia, anywhere but here, another night, another man.

Back on the corner, the paper that controlls my life, tucked tightly in my bag.

My rose, so destroyed, nothing left... I'm falling away... so tired...

This corner, this cold, cold, corner, holding me in its grasp.

The leaves fall. The wind buffets the tight cloth. Untill one day...

I never see the corner again. Alone I lay, in my shallow resting place, another skank gone missing.

Another criminal off the streets.