Hunger howls
like a storm,
the clouds aren't far
behind.

Hiding in line
at the soup kitchen,
does it ******* your pride
to ask for more?

Pockets as empty
as your pantry,
holes warn
in warm clothes.

Moose walk
by your bus stop,
they display the patience
that you lack.

Hunger howls
like a storm,
lick the bowl
stay true to form.

It isn't much,
but you'll help me.
I don't care
for excess.
I only ask for
four walls
and to be happy.


I don't mean
to pretend like I care about
what you think about me,
it's easy watch:
You just gotta care too much.



I don't want her to lose her empathy,
****** if I didn't have somthing  to with that.

and this
I suppose,
is the life I'm living;

bundled up,
walking through the snow
with a hundred and two fever.

handling money
all day,
more and more and more money:
never enough.

taking money from those with too much,
giving it in turn to those with disgustingly too much.

alienated, dehumanized,
I work for those who think of me as a number. 60 hours a week,
I sweat and sweat,
selling a product I could never afford.
alienated and dehumanized;
I toil.


there is no pride.
my eyes: they no longer sparkle.
there is no pride,
there is no relationship with my product.

there is no pride in barely affording rent.
there is no pride in not being able to visit the health clinic.
there is no pride in being exploited.

go ahead, vamanos comradita,
speak out against, you know the worst they can do.

add a black mark next to your name,
call you:
radical,
dissident,
extremist,
in a word: othering

you are othered because you wish to eat the fruits of your toil.
you are othered because you're a human, you're not a number,
you're not a spot to be filled when scheduling, you're more than the recipient of corporate pay checks.


toil, toil comraditas,
there will one day be pride

Breaking in the wrong way,
But I know,
I can't accept,
it's the only way I know.

Getting off the bus a stop late;
I can barely feel the cold.

I'm more than the surface,
but I know some days,
I'm only a mirror.


I said things to you I know I never should have.

I have never been so scared.



I sleep in all morning because
I can barely face the day,
mornings are the worst.
I only find peace on the bus.

I've never been so apathetic;
the bus slides through the ice and for a moment I hope it doesn't stop.

I've never hated looking in the mirror so much and
I've never been so scared.

Breaking in the only way I know how,
It hurts my friends and can't stop it.

This morning i woke up to the sounds of my insides breaking,
It's become a staple.

This morning I slept in an extra hour,
I made a large *** of coffee,
and took a long shower.
Rubbed oil on my split knuckles.

I shaved, and moisturized,
I combed, and gave myself a haircut.
I made a smoothie, blended with peanut butter.

Looking myself in the eyes,
one of them black.
Wrapped bandages around my knuckles,
counted my bruises, 14.


Last night was wild,
the bar wouldn't serve me,
but I stayed for the fight.

A group of nazis in the corner,
yelling at a Moslim,
me and three others,
invited them outside.

It wasn't a good fight,
although it were fair.
Skinny **** punks,    vs
me and three Cowboys.

I think I broke a knuckle on my right hand,
I know I broke a nose, but not mine,
I know I broke a finger, but not mine.
**** punks watch out,
Denver Antifascist Action is growing,
and we're not sleeping

racing across the moon
hopeful, distant and new
dancing with an old love
hopeful, shiny and blue

/alarm clock 6:30/

where did you leave me friend?
the bus don't run this far
where did you hide it? I've
never met a lonely star

I wish I were holding
you tight/ I wish you were
holding me tight tonight
I wish my love were here