The lossless homeless
Living tomorrow every day.
Sometimes magic beset their minds
As reality unfolds and enfolds.
Fifty pence in a battered cap
As they stroke their lives companion
A mongrel dog of dubious parentage
Whose eyes carry depths of love.
Sometimes the fifty pence is a twentieth
Of that much hallowed bag of brown.
Keep your needles clean.
Find a safe spot to gouch.
That drug induced slouch.
An imitation of random death.
Veins collapsed and buried deep.
If not the arm go for the groin.
Everyday sat with a battered cap
Watching passing hatred
And flying daggers of judgement.
Your past caring.
They could piss on you
For that one small bag.
You’d blow them in darkened doorway
Then blow yourself in another one.
Your best human friend
Would rob you of everything
To fall frail, mindless godless
Into that hateful harrying hole.
Your dog won’t do that!
He’ll just sit and see your hat.
Your ribs protrude for lack of food
Money gouched out in place of pasta.
You’ll lie to everyone, everyone.
Its to feed my dog.
Its to feed myself.
True but not food.
So still you sit as today turns
Into tomorrow and tomorrow
Turns into today.