The T.V and the moon battles to
Illuminate my room.

Hours of watching television takes a toll on my stomach.
Trying to ignore it, I feel my insides churning.
I need to recharge.
Using my hands to guide me through the darkness,
I tip toe through the black garage.

Turning the key, the engine roars,
I’m searching for the clown in that red box.
Snatching the toasty bag.
Now seven of us are in the car.
Peeling out of that place,
slamming car doors,
sprinting up stairs,

I sit down ripping the bag,
then laying it down like a paper towel.
Filling my stomach like a homeless man.