Filling out sheets of corrupted pine leaf special brown crusted paper
again waiting longing, lonely choking on air from passing trains
And then just as if the market knew the words we loot,
it spits out the bitter rage in gutter water and french curses,

we are patient dogs too
and our waiting is our real curse,
the end benefits our fattest bone.

i like the movement, its good, and it inspired my follow up lines