Box Town

Here lies Hugo,
down in box town,
where the walls crumble like cookies,
from the rain soaking into ourselves,
where there's no communication ,
and no sense of direction,
no beginning to an ending
for the box people
nobody takes a breath,
for the air we breath is not worth breathing,
nor is ourselves worth saving,
denial is our best friend,
and the starvation is just a fact to face,
a phase to pass by,
a window to roll down and spit out of,
and a perfect world for the ones who left
and are living too far out of bounds.
sometimes i feel destined for box town,
but more often than not, i feel my chest
i feel my heart
and realize that a place for runaways is not
exactly what i want
so at night
i pull my blankets up tight
and await the sunrise
await the first taste of smog
when you're alone
all you have is time to think
so it makes communication harder
than what human beings can take