Jose Streets (Free verse) by SupremeDreamer
San Jose, smokin 'n thizzin
everyday hustlin, watchin
the friday whores buzzin
'round Toons tonight.
I'm a hobo who sleeps
outside closed doors-
the decay of western society
my appearance of filth rings true
traveling a road traversed only by a fated few.
Drop-out kids mingle down at
the 2nd street light rail station- aloof,
separated from the clubbers, they like me
live, love, sleep, sell & get high on these
them club-flies are just visiting.
Baseheads shuffle amongst them, in shadows,
making their purchases- hopin
that it ain't soap this time 'round.
I watch the ruckus in silence.
These well-to-do party sluts seem to take over
with their eternal pleasure complexes,
as if they owned Downtown- until they decide,
foolishly, to start beef with us locals.
Then and again they must be reminded that
they're just visitin.
The happiness amongst drunken sadness-
this air of celebration seems plastic, cold,
and without true spirit, hating their masks of joy,
knowing I could never embrace the lie. Stripped
of material value, I look on in disgust
at their wanton display of seeming prosperity-
wishing I could physically erase their
self-induced feelings of gaiety.
When the liquors been drunk, pussy fucked,
egos boosted by the empty Friday victories,
all's left is the slow grip of silence, trash floating
with the early mornin' breeze.
The few remaining drop-in kids depart
for their tellies & various sleep spots.
And me, exhausted, alone,
praying for some miraculous retreat-
barely soothed by the cheap malta flowin through
my junkie veins, succumbing this spiritual restlessness
into dark inebriated sleep.
Alas, I too trudge twards my squat-
trudging finally to dream the hate and emptiness away,
comforted by the blessed arrival of unconsciousness.
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