On Wings of Wax Principles crumble in the eyes of the destitute and disparate I clutch for the coins that cut and bruised me not seconds ago. the boys laugh and saunter on. this is a weekly occurrence now. I want to leave the coins on the ground, but my stomach is the owner of my fingers and my nobility has long since fled. Hunger, hunger, hungry. me, me alone in the street. alone. every night of my new tattered life. I had never thought what the dream meant the American dream that fairy tale we all believe I had a dog. I had a friend. then the friend got hungry. then the dog was gone. then I got hungry. And now I have nothing. hunger is the god of all things and I am this vulture god’s ashamed servent. I had just lost my job. No big deal. I’d find work. two towns over. no problem. People move everyday. But fires? fires are an omen. A karmatic slap. fires take everything. Like hunger. the first night is the worst. of being homeless that is. it sinks in quick. quicker in winter. No shelter. no bed. when the overpass started to look warm that’s when I broke. but I’m a fast leaner. fire and hunger will take everything and let you live. destitute. I would resent the word if I had self confidance. Or honor. I miss Honor. I miss my dog. I miss her, but then I remember my dog.. and my stomach churns. Is it fair for me to miss honor? when I have dishonored myself so? The American dream is flying on wax wings. and the higher you soar the farther you’ll fall.