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![Image for the poem On walls of some homes](/images/uploads/poemimages/387910.jpg?1592624969)
On walls of some homes
I had cried out for home
In the midst of all out wreckage
An onslaught of bad days
Bad people
Bad things to do
To good people
To feed a bad habit
There lay my bad seed soul on the filthy carpet
I had rolled on it
I had taken a nap on it
And the polyester fibers
Had attached themselves to my brain
The pseudo soft mesh of red dirty
twisted into grey matter
And I cried out for home
God I believe
And no words for him
Aside from that thing
In my tummy
Wrenching that I needed him
And to the alleys again
Once more in the morning after
I pulled myself up
Sticky faced
And mouth curved an OG grin
With hip walk down lick street
My lean serious
My intent Ill
The illest
Then behind me sirens spin
‘‘Twas the cop
From the night before
Or, the night of
Whenever
Or the day I
And I probably did
I don’t remember
But he was sure of it
And my wrists were soon tight with steel
Key lock
And pale faced feeling
Drained to my knees the rest of me
Slid into seat
Customary head tuck
And to county jail
Booked in
Fucked up
Off grin
I had been too tired
To argue much that stripes and numbers were not my color
I was going to stay a while
A little vaca a go go
Hell no you can’t leave
But
At last a place to really sleep
And eat
(Insert here any form of gelatinous ooze)
And just to break the serious monotonous
Time......
....................(you cannot imagine what whir lies between those kind of) ........ticks....
I found my hustle
For a beautifully
Artfully
Passionately rendered Madonna and child I did for a stud broad
She traded me three e gig filters
(I shoved up my asshole)
Aughhh...
“nicotine baby, hadn’t seen you in a while.”
And I considered this
And I asked why
She had fortuned my rectum with this wealth
A big woman they called Squirrel
Who had sported stripes on the daily
And would be for 15 plus more years
Said to me
“Because I need to make these grey walls home.”
She stuck up the Madonna
With toothpaste and spit
And sat down to pray
And here’s the thing
About God
And
About stud broads called Squirrel
Both have quite the surprising answers
To questions
You ask
Or prayers you did not know you’d cried out
Prayers like
I want to go home
And big bad women
With our lady of perpetual hope
Lightening the dark of their eye
Show you how to make it
In the midst of all out wreckage
An onslaught of bad days
Bad people
Bad things to do
To good people
To feed a bad habit
There lay my bad seed soul on the filthy carpet
I had rolled on it
I had taken a nap on it
And the polyester fibers
Had attached themselves to my brain
The pseudo soft mesh of red dirty
twisted into grey matter
And I cried out for home
God I believe
And no words for him
Aside from that thing
In my tummy
Wrenching that I needed him
And to the alleys again
Once more in the morning after
I pulled myself up
Sticky faced
And mouth curved an OG grin
With hip walk down lick street
My lean serious
My intent Ill
The illest
Then behind me sirens spin
‘‘Twas the cop
From the night before
Or, the night of
Whenever
Or the day I
And I probably did
I don’t remember
But he was sure of it
And my wrists were soon tight with steel
Key lock
And pale faced feeling
Drained to my knees the rest of me
Slid into seat
Customary head tuck
And to county jail
Booked in
Fucked up
Off grin
I had been too tired
To argue much that stripes and numbers were not my color
I was going to stay a while
A little vaca a go go
Hell no you can’t leave
But
At last a place to really sleep
And eat
(Insert here any form of gelatinous ooze)
And just to break the serious monotonous
Time......
....................(you cannot imagine what whir lies between those kind of) ........ticks....
I found my hustle
For a beautifully
Artfully
Passionately rendered Madonna and child I did for a stud broad
She traded me three e gig filters
(I shoved up my asshole)
Aughhh...
“nicotine baby, hadn’t seen you in a while.”
And I considered this
And I asked why
She had fortuned my rectum with this wealth
A big woman they called Squirrel
Who had sported stripes on the daily
And would be for 15 plus more years
Said to me
“Because I need to make these grey walls home.”
She stuck up the Madonna
With toothpaste and spit
And sat down to pray
And here’s the thing
About God
And
About stud broads called Squirrel
Both have quite the surprising answers
To questions
You ask
Or prayers you did not know you’d cried out
Prayers like
I want to go home
And big bad women
With our lady of perpetual hope
Lightening the dark of their eye
Show you how to make it
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