There is damp on my wall
black mold creeps up the edge
paint flakes and falls
too cold to leave.

I swallow and shadows heave
corners stained tobacco pale
sofa leather; crusted burns
too cold to stay.

Festering street of fried treats
boy selling sneakers
and some dirty weed
too cold to reach.

Little furball, pleading dependent
for your hunger will I awaken?
a nice cuppa for me — the bargain
too cold to sleep.