A rebel without a clue.

Being homeless is a habit: Sorting through tab ends Vainly hoping for gold tipped Promise , lifting one up  Above the pideon pavement. Another person's discarded fag Is a surface where Covid lingers Opiated, but not finished yet! And these souls, unclean, Just wait to be gathered Into deaths cold embrace And turned out, cruelly, Onto a morticians slab "Here lies a habit disforming".