The door is sealed, but voices ring out
And purple hearts still point the way.
There's a pipe in the corner that we're too afraid to pick up,
And microscopic devils reside in these sheets.
The screaming upstairs is getting louder,
And this won't be the first time I've tried to hurt her.
***** rigs with missing caps make up our mind,
The floor is the safest route here.
But this is home, and love resides here.
It shows itself among smelly blankets cuddled together in the
Or in the way permission is asked before saliva trades with water.
It smiles from behind broken skin and bruised eyes,
then saunters away to go spare change a meal.
Notes from a week spent living in a squat in Philadelphia known as "Paradise"
— The End —