The muffled barks— craving sleep—
Stir weary eyes on sodden streets.
A desolate man on heavy feet,
With cigarette roll clenched between grey teeth,
Mumbles to himself in the dead of night:
" 'Tis three O'clock. I have lost my soul."
Words uttered through mist if truth be told.

value people’s time
break people's clocks

ask for forgiveness
not for permission

recognize your emotions
******* again