Four Cousins

A twisted perspective from an obscured view For hours observing the evaporating morning dew Nothing more a swollen eye and head can do I breath in the morning air through a blood clotted nose The dewdrops are not enough to quench my thirst or to bathe A spray of spit from a passing stranger offers some relief I’m a sore sight Lying amongst broken bottles This is near suicide The blood and last night’s brew soaking the ground red It was palatable going down, bruised temple bled They just left me here the tools Nothing but teeth-pulling-pliers the fools