The forgotten crumbs
of your devoured childhood
didn’t know what to do
so, lonely & scared,
they dressed up as ghosts.
Your ghost crumbs
haunt you regularly,
. seven days a week
. . (Monday through Munday),
like frisbees & Nerf footballs
stuck in the rain gutters
of your mind,
begging you
to come outside
& save them/play with them
before it’s too late,
if it isn’t already.
Homeless is a shithead laureate / crap artist who publishes poems and hangs “art” on the streets & in the subways of NYC. The streets & subways of NYC both hate his poems & art & have begged him to stop but Homeless refuses because he has “nothing better to do” with his time. He has two books forthcoming—“Ghost Crumbs,” a collection of poetry (University of Hell Press), & “This Hasn’t Been a Very Magical Journey So Far,” a novel (Expat Press). If you’d like to reach him, you can find Homeless nestled on the virtual streets of obscurity at…
https://www.instagram.com/
https://twitter.com/
