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Apr 15
Vicious eyes,
ferocious smile, and an
*** that begged to be
rubbed all night, like
Buddha promising good luck.
But, what that
*** brought, was
jail, soup lines, and
homeless shelters.

The heart pounds the
head, then the feet pound
the street;
walking mile after mile,
aimless roaming,
doe eyed thinking

What went wrong?
Where the hell did
I go wrong?

Then it dawns on
me like the dew
soaked morning.

It was the ***.
Always that
sorceriffic ***.
I'm an *** man.
Thomas W Case
Written by
Thomas W Case  53/M/Iowa City
(53/M/Iowa City)   
770
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