of dirty hallways,
humming echoing voices
dying slowly behind rust colored shuttered doors.
Piss stained floors chant their ache
beneath broken feet shuffling away.
Soloists carry the tune far enough to find
a dime amid the shattered glass
on the street.
Somewhere a baby cries near enough
for someone to care, but who does
here in the siren of motherfuckers
luring others to the music of another
night's singing, to forget everything,
except the crackle spit melody
of a spoon touched by the flame.