Today, my journey was the usual,
the daily, each day heading for home,
finding home hidden from me seeing

vegetable stands in bombed buildings,
watching plywood work it’s way
to shelter me from the innocent,

locking me away with crooked beasts
who have steel pipes pulled from
the structure of nothingness, ready to

beat me thoroughly, and I stare 
at the vacant parking lot with black 
sewage toppings, knowing there is no 

warmth, knowing it’s no home of mine 
but wanting to be flattened under the
sewage and the two smashed eggs.