The basement dweller,
dodging curses from computers,
makes his dark abode.

Marijuana bags
are strewn about the gray floor,
full of stems and seeds.

His bed is filthy.
The sheets are dirty and soiled
with disgusting stains.

His computer lies
on an ancient wood table
(scratching the surface).

Living in his parents’ place,
he exists but barely lives.

Previous Poem | Next Poem

---

Previous Chapbook | Next Chapbook
(Back to Individual Poems)