Blank canvas and blunt crayons.
Unsharpened pencils and hollow canons.
Empty hauls and deserted streets.
Busted lights and torn sheets.

Broken records and broken hearts.
Tattered trousers and discarded parts.
Stained windows and faded paints.
Dirty shirts and smelly Hanes.

Cobwebbed cornice and dusty furnace.
Cracked glass, pain the a**.
Stagnant water, shabby shelter.
Flat tires and faulty wires.

Been rotten, been old,
I was left unsold.

I was aching.
I was hopeless.
I was tired.

But. . .

I never moved.
I never left.
I never wavered.

- La Coy, March 11, 2013, 1024 hours.