Street Sleeper by Stephen Jarrell Williams

It has been years or maybe months
In the dark passages of sleep and narrow alleyways
Confining myself within the sliced wounds of the city

Holding myself as prisoner and escapee from the past
They cannot find me or recognize me
Now the bearded wonder is the matted freak

Mumbling to myself it keeps most away
I am an actor and secret rebel they do not want to play with
The giant rising from the ashes when pushed too far

Some have read my words
Written when I was still a member of society
But like most prideful men they fall by their own doing

I suffer the consequences to the point of enjoyment
No longer having to achieve or look impressive
I dwell within my sleepy thoughts and still vivid imagination

Dying to what little I’ve done
But opening to the vision of infinite stars.

Stephen Jarrell Williams

Stephen Jarrell Williams loves to write in the middle of the night with a grin and grimace and flame in his heart. He is the editor of Dead Snakes at deadsnakes.blogspot.com

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