Kensington Avenue

The wheels of the chaotic times churn for them the sands of crushed dreams in the desert of desiccated life, settling frenzied on the unstratified fragile structure of the disorganized dunes of desolate existence. The sequestered moments of distressed awareness, drift the dust of disarray to the foyer of failed being. The truth of trustful conviction sinks under suffering made with mirage on the ruffled ripples of disorder. In homeless languished life’s impoverished landscape, sorrow-paved avenue contours convoluted uncertainty, winds to nowhere at the fading fringe of the time future, beyond the befuddled perception of toiling time present. With the faceless faces smeared by the shadows of scorn they walk on slimy Kensington Avenue of cardinal crime. Life trampled by insolent wavering footsteps in journey under the stupor of opoids that never ends their pain. They seek the benevolence of the society to help them in their search for the lighted path away from squalid environs for their suffering souls to discern the abode of empathy, as they strive to find the way out of the dead end avenue.