Hunger Spot

Hunger Spot Hunger is usually done alone, in the dirty card board box, called home On wet, cut corners out of traffic, forever in unguarded dark Winds, harsh voices, howling on hollow self and scene are what remain The food is gone, never to return Hunger; it reminds you of life, of chronic pain, leaving little else I tried to eat my shoe today, thinking it was leather…It was not Plastics should come in assorted varied flavors To see me through the night I expect things to get better in my box If not, there is always hunger to fill this empty spot Revised 11/03/14 for- "Any Poem 12- line MAX"- Poetry Contest