Sunday, 28 April 2013

Better than you would have

Train tracks decrepit
worn and lost for 
lust and hunger which
feed starving men 
on hold for hours 
losing life, losing time;
so much for love
and the touch of one
but hopelessness stays
unavoidable and piercing
like sun on skin
peeling and burnt 
red and raw
worse than salt
in an open wound.

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