a trundled heart
a morosed soul
a stifled spirit
he loiters on the decrepit lot
ransacking peckishly for hoard
donned with sleazy drabs
slumbering in curbs and culverts
the morrow mundane with stagnancy
beseeching their modus operandi
hovering the prospects their status quo
to them a siver-lining is but a reverie
hope a four letter word
tranced in gutter wretched for ever
trill`ng dirges mock their faculty
the living dead
the dead weight
the loafers
the smouldering pyres
all span marked to ruin
...signifying nothing.
