Blown out

Blown out by wind,
cold as a fridge
she laid there,
suffering still
under the bridge.

Hollowed face,
vanished grace,
corroding too long,
stopped wondering
where it went wrong.

Crippled by overdose,
secluded by fate,
eaten by Meth;
fatally lost,
waiting for death.

A stray dog came
and waited by her side,
just for a while,
as she gracefully forced out
her last despairing smile…



Old trash rekindled
Revived to retro
Pulled out the dumps
Straight from the ghetto

Piled up for sale
Air is all stale
Table and chair
At a price above fair

Seventies stock
Old rusty lock
Industrial lamps
Give me the cramps

Vintage they call it
Rehabilitated old stuff
Resold as hype
But I’ve had enough