Here, the human dregs have settled.
They glisten in florescent light,
slick with scum that rubbed and nettled
'til reek blurred their reflexive sight.
This collection--is it fiction,
accurate in its depiction,
or true in some unmeasured way?
All shame and decent thinking stay
far from here; they flee as quickly
as they appear and leave behind
this debt, this poverty of mind,
shiftless greed that twists the sickly.
This stench would offer rank offense
to souls of any consequence.
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