No One Is Disabled
Candy wrappers and tampons under the bed.
Ants feast, corpses of older generations remain.
Corners underneath furniture, mouse droppings.
My public housing is a civilized home.
Clothes unwashed, nothing sorted.
No more toilet paper, drip dry suffices.
Dollar store soap bottle, refilled with water.
Brillo pad, all but brown rusted shreds...
I live here, and my life has meaning.
In the evening, I climb under my sheets,
And fall asleep. Just like you.
When I awake, I use the restroom and wash,
Just like you too.
The house is stuffy, I open the window,
Spring sunlight filters through the leaves.
I go outside for a morning walk.
The sun reflects off me too.
There's nothing at all wrong with my life.
I live day to day, paycheck to paycheck.
And contemplate life in between payments.
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