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there is a boy
whose touch can crack cement
whose inebriated caress causes blisters
syringes dangle off his eye lids. gigolo
service for a pack of cheap cigarettes
	 the kind that taste like dried cabbage
	 swept off a sweaty camel back. licking a worker's
							        	back door. 
redemption got caught up 
ran like mud through his throat
projecting in a rainbow of flavors towards
						a basket
							of fantasy lives
								of hope to reach a light
at the end of a funnel cloud raging with rats gnawing every
last s h r e d
						the possibility of nothingness
into the certainty
					in empty nights
						with empty dreams
on beds that are too big
for one body				weeping
is heard down the hall					followed by
			screams.  howls.
he will always be nice enough to lie
about anything he may actually think
if he does have thoughts.

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