They don’t necessarily seem to speak- they talk, they whisper it, and they set themselves riotously against the grain
Pain had no place but for the stop, stand and STAREAWHILE and upside-down smile

Which meanders these lonely ol’ streets- CorkCity’s equally lonesome AND bRoKen-DowN people of underprivileged and UNDERprioritised minds
When the drink and overthinking about Everything takes utter hold, burnt versions of wonderful GOLD that they ALL.. “should have been, maybe?!”

And sitting dishevelled beneath cardboard box cutouts of past-tense homes:

Only that they HAVE been needLESSly pushed to the PUTRID point of irreparable angst and utter mis-understanding
Pardon the pun but these ARE THE homeless debaters, and they do BEG TO DIFFER… …

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