Today is easier than the others
for some reason the ropes are
always quiet of the same challenge
leading up to your hitting them.

One of the local homeless died last night,
she was remembered fondly as some
kind of character, a haggard queen of the street
dressed like a hooker stained by the elements.
I thought about doing that once.
Being a local character.
What was the harm I thought,
life is bullshit anyway.

Owning things and getting
owned by them, over and
over until the whole fucking
thing goes up in fermented
flesh and burial, of the body
or the waste kind, it all ends there.

I used to write things in chalk with a lover.
We would leave each other
messages across the cities walls.

I bet a few are faded into
the brick now, and will be there
even after we have both been
driven mad with this life.

Our legacy, some cheap sidewalk chalk.

She speaks to herself in coded languages now.

I’ve given up having designs
of being some local character.
I’ve taken to the pages easy slumber
and I have no use for my middle finger.

Life has way too many fuck off’s
and fuck you’s set up in it’s very design,
we don’t need to make more trouble for ourselves.

We will do just fine on our own.
Tomorrow is the promise of new agitations,
and the feast of memory on your time.
I will forget you tonight.
The quickest way possible.

Cold beer and green smoke.