Portrait

The voices seem to travle through the wall. Slitther down the sidewalk. To settle in a place were no one cares at all. As the painter makes strokes apon a canvas with black and grey. Screams fill the streets. As passing cars cruise alleys were prostituttes work and the homeless stay. On rooftops on the hot summer nights. people dream beyond the jungle. has on the other side of towm a preist gives a man his last rights. A cat turns over a garbage can. Down at the bar a drunk. Talks about his far fetched plan. I'll take you away he tells the barmaid. spits more bullshit. in all hopes just t get laid. the DJ's voice cuts through the night. Fan in window sweat filled sheets. trying to catch a rest befor light. Another fix and and soon he'll crave more. Jokes told to empty heart. As the winos gather in back of liqour store. The canvas is the slums. it was a grand old building till sombody in blue torched it. We exist in its shadow as the night paints it portrait