The days feel dead.

 The Days Feel Dead.

++++++++++++++

The days feel dead 

and 

My Head is stuffed 

With

Molded Straw;

As 

Love throws spare

Change 

At 

The Hobo Heart 

Some 

Monster left to 

Rot 

Alone on A 

Lonely 

Street corner. 

And I'll throw 

Pieces into

Her Angelic 

Wishing well...

(Forever.)

J.S.H.