Sour mash chards of poverty,
pungent stenches excreting in the winds
People teetering the verge of toxicity,
the city still chugs and spawns

Making way along broken streets,
tattered clothes thoughts a muck, dregs to this life
Looking for a coin heads up,
no one cares to spare a cent

Look into the gaping maw of technology,
great iron beast to mock the common man
Taunting the rich, flaunting to the poor
easier access to a larger world of sin

Alas you too become enticed, spellbound
drawn to the other life that promises, that awaits
A smorgasbord of unemployed inebriation,
the condiments of gods and goddesses of ill repute

Walk down the pike 'cross the bridge,
coctails served twenty four and seven
Bitter to sweet, sweet to bitter
the other side, opposite to heaven

(c)2005
~Nikki~