No one in an alley, and nothing, nothing but blackwater,
Blackwater over rails and cobble, mainline to poverty;
Somewhere at the end of it, gangs throng,
Squeezing the dark into your mind, cut you with a blade,
Blood squandering on their fingers. Wrestle with
Your money, footfalls to shadows in a doorway.
The victim falls to the worm in an earth hook,
Theirs is the only voice protesting in a warm laid grave.

Overhead, black clouds clapping, boisterous wind,
Hard down on the city. Deluge of rain
Slapping window panes; quenching the thirst of gutters,
The rash smart sloggering pour.
Beating and beating on the asphalt ground,
Storm drains to a siphon. I was under a roof without
A rent, followed the path of the homeless here,
Drank water dripping from a ceiling, uttered a prayer.

The only thing to come now is the light,
Not a day dazzle nor darkened recompense.
On my knees, prayed for a day spring to the dimness of me,
Heaven, the word of, words by and by,
Let it ride like a dice roll; dispatched and have done
With its doom here; lower than death, shoot
The vein for the visiting. Let my last
Breath be penitent fetched from the Gideon book.

Copyright © 12/15/17 lance sheridan®