The Smell Of Old Detroit Poem by James McLain

The more I drank the thirstier I became.
Not only U.S.
but here where we lay, others would come
to sleep as well.
No one,
to witness our rising with each new sun.
Wretchedness,
forsaken by the church only visiting U.S.
in their prisons or jail's.
What is liquid gold as pure silver it run's.
My sphincter has long since relaxed,
it is spent it is done.
No one but you will miss U.S.
verily is he, no one cared.
Variables of each other with death in and out.
The scar on Detroit is intended solely for
those whom choose not to run and stayed.
We were doomed till the end of the day,
and for that unlike you, I am gone.
Drinking isopropyl alcohol instead of good scotch
the scotch you drank was not available
to people like U.S.
So we'd come here amongst the stench and the filth.
Detroit is our home, here we lay.