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Cold concrete blessing footsteps of the chosen.
Nighttime welcomes stale air and neon lights, a crowded street full of cannibal minds. A glance downward and to the left reveals: Pooling vomit, fiesta colored. Hunching over- loneliness, stomach aches, and spirit wanes: The owner of this spew. One walks towards emptiness incarnate to squat next too. In hand the very Words of God.
"There is hope against this tide of wickedness." no response.
"Come on man, stand, lets clean up. Christ is in me." repose.
Banter combats the prophet within. Noisless noise, swagger, step. Homosexuality revealed. Love enshrouds, hope is born-
snuffed: enter bartender. Bitterness, contempt, anger belching.
"I won't have this in front of my establishment!"
Constitutional rights thinned Threat to phone enforcers Demand of absence immediately. Standing stiff joints, gather oneself. Continue walking chilling avenue. Bouncer throws steam water, vomit washes- gutters fed, whisping heat entangles frosty street air.
Where is freedom found? Awash in the gutters?
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