Junk Food Poem by Timmy Curran
Junk Food
Can't move with
all the energy
Pouring out of
Memories
Sit and rot
with too much
junk food
in front of me
A little more dumb
A little more numb
A little more thick
Sidewalks patrolled
by men who
don't have guns,
yet remain unpeaceful
A delivery man
asked my name
then I hesitated
Ran to lock the door
slid down the wall
and impatientally waited
Saturday, January 14, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: miscellaneous
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5/3/2024 3:14:21 AM # 1.0.0.1119
