O Demetrius, must you pass
cracked in pieces of
less than half
A stutter-step,
a flourish of anguish?

Is there no other way
to get others to give?
To get away
with a scream
a fake laugh?

O otherworldly psychic
street map of distress
if only your loop turned
and brought you back
from the middle of the street

wild-eyed you shriek
your backpack split
to the yellow-toothed freaks
traffic and flashing lights
an orchestra of heat

O Demetrius,
dance the worst dance
that humans do:
The Outcast
unwanted, misconstrued

Harbinger of discord
unlike the others
the streets hold
You're a dusted angel
with a busted wing