St. Louis EBT Blues

my tits droop…
sitting naked in a chair…
belly exposed…thinking of pork chop sandwiches…

gun shots fired into darkness….

those niggers are at it again…

give me a bus pass…
leave …let the soul fly….into the arms of a whore….never shall we kiss…

crack lingers ’round corners…so do the smells of fried tripe and smelts…

they hate us and we hate them…,mutters a black girl with braids at the food stamps office…
white people smell funny. ….fuck dem’…,a pack of Newports hits the streaked floor…

calling 52….calling number 52…,eyes look down at white tickets… shaking heads…the wait continues…this wait continues.. 

my tits droop…
sitting naked in a chair…
belly exposed… thinking of pork chop sandwiches…

gun shots fired into darkness…

those niggers are at it again…

Published by: dmseay

The writing is based on my surroundings and what I've been surrounded by. This language is coarse and politically incorrect; which I make no apologies for. These characters are not nice and to use any other dialogue would be disingenuine. That being said, I choose to roll the dice. dm seay

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