I still feel the cold hardness
of the ground beneath my
cardboarded head
and my soul's hunger for a
soft warm bed.

My holey shoes slapslap on
summer's hot pavement.
Hookers, junkies and pimps,
were my constant companions. . .

My gut ever twisting, gnawing
never knowing,
as night falls,
what the darkness will discard.

My personal stench offended some
filthy hair, but showers are not free,
a time does come,
when you can't save me.

A quart of warm beer, or a hard pint,
a pretty pill, and a nose full of white,
only a heartbeat eases my pain,
blurr. . . my shame.

Today I live warm and safe,
but not so deep is my fear,
that I am only tiny steps away,
from the street on any day.

Drawing by Sidra.