I have no home, no place in this grim dark city,
Where I may lay my head but the stinking gutter.
I am alone, unloved, with neither hope nor faith.
My worthless life is just one long disaster,
A meaningless stream of deep inconsequence.
Why not end it? Why not put myself to sleep?
In the lowly alley where my filthy body
Lies, sore-covered, in rank and odious rags,
I clarify my alcohol-confused resolve,
Crawling around among the soggy rat droppings,
Searching for some kind means with which to end myself.
At last, a broken bottle, friend to my waiting throat.
But it's only plastic and would not cut butter hot.
Instead of slitting my despairing jugular,
I barely scratch my grimy unwashed old jowls,
And then lie sobbing in the neglected culvert.
And a stray, mangy, cast-off, lonely mongrel mutt
Sniffs at my stained groin before pissing on me.
Edna Sweetlove
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/friendless-and-hopeless/
