"Cheshire Ghost"

“ Chessire Ghost”'

By Drew

I hide in plain sight. Bus stops- pretending to wait for the 207. McDonald's pretending to eat a mcchicken.

The homeless shower wait line that lets me sit in a chair and write this shit, but take no shower.

Waiting in lines with no- ever expectation of intended product, or service. Telling Starbucks I lost my cat.

'“ Oops. I must have left my card in the car.”

Like even had one to sleep in.

My dog had his 1st howl when we got here, a 13 year olds cracking voice. The sirens disturb him so im looking for woodwd real estate. He has pit bully girlfriend too, and i had to yank him from his virginity.

So, I hide untill i die. Kinkos for copies of fodder when Netflix, and A20 say to just submit online.

I live in a tent inbetween A20 and a really popular nightclub called Academy. It right beside the wait line.

I lay in my tent, not scrolling, and just listen to the cream of the crop's dialouge like an auditory voyeur.

I am everything society looks to hate in the hurt. Dirty and spiritually unclean. Sum of a thousand Bad choices.

I.i . Me .me. Compounding the days take of shame and popping joints from a toiled walk.

Might put up a poetry for sale sign by michael jacksons star. Dirty clothes, once considered that were decent on-sale items at one point.

In-between the homeless “IN” crowd, and everything else i was running away from. The motel queen bed boxes where for a hundred or so dollars, you can drink and scroll all you want. Compartments of guilt.

My choices meandering the synapses of my mind like a morose snake. Grasping threads to what's left of comfort’s quilt. Staring at dirty cement that dont pay dirty people to clean.