It is now
when the evening draws in and the warmth of the day dances on the point of a pin when the chances of charity from strangers are slim and the thought of that cardboard..
...yes,
that cardboard on the sidewalk by the superstore outside, the pharmacy, on the street where your breath paints the air with a sense of foreboding, it feels like you're loading the twelve bore by the superstore, super, the pharmacy opens at six.

So
we drop in a coin or two tell you to get a job, tidy up, have some respect for yourself and then we forget you because we're not you and we never will be, but I know and so do you that you were 'we' once, until the crash came and the sky fell in and any warmth now dances on the point of a pin.

Tough to get back and harder to get in when you're out of the loop, it's like the World's caving in on you and all you can see are the special offers in the windows of the superstore by the pharmacy.

It is now in the moment where you could be where you once went, but you're intent on self-misery and self-loathing is your luxury.

The night drifts in on the wing of a prayer.