whores & drifters
one on every street corner."
in every late-night diner, & cold bus station.
we walk alone, but our numbers are legion.
names & wishes taken by the wind, useless as garbage.
we sacrifice the shepherd's hand in the beds of the damned.
tears are kept in orange plastic. broken wings, left on dusty roads.
when we approach, doors are locked. sacred hearts do not know us.
jotting emptiness in a tattered notebook, with stolen pens.
the tunnel is infinite. there is no light.
the fires of hell have scorched the earth.
such is our fate. and such is our destiny.
the mournful offices of whores & drifters.