barrel chested
iron spirit wrought by force
born of both blunt trauma and subtle crimping.
sitting at corners
where thoughts, dreams and nightmares
blend like rainwater, piss and used barley
watching others swim by.
and i?
i find neglect by others
those who speak with me in gold
but lay their leaden burdens with me
like so much trash
claiming love for my strength
while despising the fact
there is no more room for their dirt
left among ruined pores.
and as the sky shifts
i think of souls becoming wastebaskets
by force and by choice.
no one litters without a reason
and i am burning all trash and their owners
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