We live in the poorest side of the city.

Poor and ugly.

The forgotten people.

I can’t remember the last time I found a smile here.

I’m not the least surprised though.

We are hungry all the time.

Food is all we can think about.

Things can get really ugly here–uglier than it already is.

We fight amongst ourselves for the little scraps we can find.

At least we have that–their leftovers.


My mother brings me a rotten potato adorned with fresh maggots.

My mother is an excellent scavenger but today she was extra lucky.

To me, this is a feast.

I typically only get maggots.

We are skinny fellows.

Friendly fellows.

But if we don’t get even the smallest bite to eat, we become

nasty fellows.

I remember once I gashed a man, for he stole my precious moldy piece of bread that took me long to find.

I clawed his eyes out and slit his throat.

Mother said to never let anyone pull that kind of shit on me.

Mothers know best.




4 thoughts on “Destitute

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