it is late,
find something to sate,
your thirst, your hunger,
that greed you call a need,
when you
are haunted
by want for
things you may
not find,
for a dollar,
FOOD,
no F.O.O.D.
Found Objects Of Desire,
play with that fire,
come visit the quagmire,
watch that first step it is a sticky one,
but it is late,
your watch is covered in much muck.
oh phoque, your cell phone is roaming,
in the gloaming of the horizon,
your fate is sealed,
kiss your paycheque goodbye,
hear, here is a hand,
an offer not a command,
take hold, for help is fleeting,
just like love.

But love is unconditional,
and help is propositional,
it has to be accepted,
to work.