Smoke exits as the door swings open,
banging on a wall, tipping the trash can.
The cloud floats up towards the sky
to meet with the horizon
adding white to the crimson tinted sun.

Photogenic teens all group together
to take a 'selfie' with the horizon.
By their feet sits tall boys
of cheap malt liquor.
They cheer,
they shout
proclaiming that this is their one and only life,
the world's ****** up so it's best to be the same.

A short **** and a busted contraceptive.
In nine months comes another ******* child
born to wander in search of a dream
that will never be seen.

Rain falls but never to the container
we become thirsty sipping
on coronas with moldy limes.
Pressing the salt to the wound
to mummify a scar to present
to the thrill seekers.
All the while a fiend lays in some dank alley way
with pin pricked veins.
Talking philosophy with
another homeless man who cannot read.
"We need another dollar, we need change"
but the right change is not found in the pocket,
it's not found in a bank.
The right change cannot manifest in green paper,
it comes inside the hearts and minds
of men, women, and children
who live for later