Submissions by krisdow

For You, My Friends
I write for the homeless man
who sleeps on the park bench
A lazy bum most will assume
the man in the shelters
or alone with a rope and an empty bottle
in the regent hotel room
My thoughts written in blood The reader treats the words
like drugs he must consume
in a while he'll read his limit
had enoughdeath will reach him soon
So if you really
want to feel my words
you'll need a lighter, a needle, some water and a spoon

I write for the Harlot
who stands in a red mini
in the black night's rain
black...

When the odds are stacked against you
When the park bench you're sleeping on is much colder than usual
When the drugs just aren't killing the pain anymore
When your best friend is 2nd only to your mind on your list of enemies
When you can't even seem to end your life without failing
Look up my dear artist
Look up my dear writer
Remember the greats
When you have gotten your manuscript back in the mail with your 26th rejection letter
when the world has turned its back
when your family has long given up and left you
when your stomach aches from hunger...