it's that time of night when
the wolves with warn out vocal cords
drag home the bleeding sorts
to satisfy the hunger at sunrise

i enter and exit the womb
no one acknowledging one or the other
just like that, i'm back to the love of mother
as the bare beginning of positive human contact

soon, always too soon
i'll be digging for romance in a garbage can
never worked before, but i'll try again
persistence, it seems, is kind of like my thing