the sidewalk always glows at night-   a life-draining maggot fountain   where the men get drunk,   not to be caged again until monday.      he doesn't need to look her in the eye,   lets the maggots do his work for him   he is a god, he is a revelation   sadly,   only in his own eyes.      frothing at the moustache   foaming at your itchy palms   it makes me want to kill but i show no reaction.      i shouldn't think myself any better   than the apes i detest with every living inch-   afterall what do i have but my depressing teenage twitches      but she told you, "no, fuck off."   still you insist at a hidden meaning   you were a god, a fucking revelation   sadly,   only in your own eyes.