Untitiled
I would have a home
Warm in the winter with a heater by my feet
Instead of a taped tablecloth as a window
Cool in the summer
Instead of filled with heavy, humid air
For I fear of cracking the window and exposing all my posessions to the night
And I think of nothing but this
Survival or selfishness?
It's hard to look out into the suffering of the world
When mountains of blanket wrap around you in desperation
It's hard to compose your sympathies and empathies for others
When you are deafened by the hazy growl of your stomach
If the only thing I can think to change is my own comfort
The answer is clear