i admire
the perseverance of
the panhandlers
tattered signs
knowing maybe
one in a hundred
will acknowledge
their existence
casting a wide net
for the scraps in
the sea of humanity

i stopped begging
groveling for a
moment worth of time
and slipping farther
and farther away
until i was no
longer there and
my lack of presence
wasn’t even noticed
showing when i have
no use it is useless
to expect anything
or effort at all

the ceiling doesn’t
answer my middle of
the night appeals for
a bare minimum of
release from the insipid
anxieties and silence
that appears to be
all there is in this
ever expanding expanse
where the distance
between is magnified
by the radiation that
permeates isotopic decay

the sparrows hop
nervous little fluffs
with wary eyes and
trilling tales of the
sunrise and ample seeds
listening to a fool
ramble incessantly
from empty parking lots
across the greater
dallas ft worth area
dreading the enforced
solace of an emtpy home
and a ceiling that
is indifferent at best

perhaps if i were to
scribble my pleas onto
a cardboard sign
one in a hundred or so
will throw me some change
because the only actual
change i have enacted
is falling farther into
my own hollow skull
withdrawing myself from
the world that doesn’t
seem to have the time
for a wayward nothing