My name is Wayne.

Panhandling for the handle of a pan.

No food,an empty pan with nothing to hold.

No sizzle,only drizzle that saturates my thoughts.

The cold wind wraps around my naked body,as I sleep under the frozen stars.

Icicle tears fall into my weathered shoes, flooding me with bitter reality.

A nickel to my name,I'm not a loony,I'll never see my face on a twenty dollar bill.

I ask for change,a change of clothes,a change in my situation.

But for now,I will push on.

I will pull the threads from your pockets.

With my lifeless eyes,that give birth to another day.