In my neighborhood
the days and nights are filled with
slow motion suicides
so many faces
that have lost their names
with hunted
and hungry
eyes like animals
the playground is across the street
from the porno club
and the sidewalks are strewn
with all the tickets
that never won
dreams are slaughtered
and hung like meat
in the windows of Chinatown
all the people
looking for places to hide
from sunshine and Christmas
and a world so hungry
for what is left of their lives
as an old man in a doorway
lights a cigarette and says
when death is the only truth
all of us are liars.