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
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