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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons 2.5 License.
A weird painted man nearly lives here,
he’s been in and out so often
coming through here like some stray
cat that has claimed this place as home.
The locals avoid him,
well not the man with pink underwear.
I don't want to see anyone,
more
I don't want to be seen.
My ass is numb from the plastic seat;
I haven't slept in two days,
there are people sleeping on the ground;
but the floor smells like tears, spit,
maybe some stale urine,
bleached-over blood,
a sense of hopelessness.
this eight hour Hell
consumed what I was.
I hate the man with
my name between
midnight and waking.
- (In)Experience by Matthew Robinson