Between every space there is a word
making the space possible
Owing it’s entire being
to that space
There’s poetry somewhere
in the cracks of the dull and divine ghetto
hiding and peeking around corners
afraid of being dredged to the light
We’ll find ourselves
here amongst the weeds
hunched over and coughing up drugs
digging around for the words
It’s our volunteer work
our community service
our reflex
our addiction no doubt
all rolled up into one juicy handwritten spliff