Born out of nothing, born from the void
I stumble into bar-rooms and lift myself from the floor
I count the horseless carriages that niosely pass by
And the pink dawn spreads its insipid bloodstain across the sky
A rabid dog slinks into a shadow alley, its hairless tail between it chicken legs. I pass by and the rose-red dawn spreads its petals across the sky.
“No milk today”, a nursing mother confides
“Thats the lot of the poor in times like these, here – I have a little left”, the other whispers, reaching across for the gift-wrapped child.