The man

The little man against the wall,

everything about him is little.

Yet he fills his fingers with flesh,

and opens sleepy slit eyes as his lips extend forward.

His greed, there’s something about it.

Perhaps, because it’s for you.

Which shouldn’t be enough, 

but you take it and you dont know why.

This little man, with his searching eyes,

and non-existent smile.

He is the pinnacle,

of this disconnected confusion.

His fingers hold more that they can fit

and you? what about your wretchedness?

Let’s hope you didnt come to this wall looking for repair,

maybe you got superglue, instead of surgery, 

and you walk stiffly, gingerly, because everything is broken,

and it’s being held together by cheap. shitty glue.

What were you hoping to find in this greed?

Didnt you know you abandoned all hope when you came to this place?