As words might
So we may disown our own experiences
And give breathe to those human changelings, inked at heart.
Of lowly temptations,
They fray the fringes of my conscience
Smelling of old, wet coffee
Which I had wanted, bitterly
But of course, came sourly instead.
A few inebriated lads calls out
“Hey baby”, “Hi”.
“Well fuck you then.”
Tonight, the words survived.