the library of the rejected

it’s not far away;

just up the street

around the corner

somewhere between

the Italian sausage exhibition 

and the kitchen where

horrific utensils are drawer’d

and hidden safely away from the kids.

it’s my responsibility to express myself

for good or not so much good

or better yet to keep my mouth shut.

literarily, I place myself in different

circumstances with people

who are mostly forgettable

due to a lack of decency, who

roam the Earth like ghosts

bemoaning their stations.

I breathe life into their lungs,

dress them in guilt and sometimes kill them.

it’s what I do inside the library of the rejected.

come in and bring the little ones why doncha.