this land of lost loves and lowlifes <br />and strands of her hair like dangling needles <br />these angels weeping midnight <br />that streaks across their faces <br />running like a river <br />but never keeping up <br />she cops she's tired <br />along with other vagabond excuses <br />while monkey-fucking cigarettes from passers-by <br />the street ties up her hair like ribbons <br />she's a rodent <br />in some shame-numb collective <br />shot from the planet <br />stubbing her toes on stars<br /><br />Rev. Dr. A. Jacob Hassler<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/worry/
