It was a full moon,

When I've started writing
This letter.

I've sparkled in the doom
Of unnecessary street lamps
I've shattered.

I was trying to fill
Some sort of a hollow.

Trying not to drown
In the drink, in the bottle,
It's not enough, it's too shallow.

''
In This Street,
With a sort of
Chemical treat,
I was ready to sit,
Not feeling noble, or neat,
Just a homeless mollusk
Fish in an urban concrete reef.

Writing in rhymes,
Which don't fit.
Oh, it makes me fill so wit,
And when they will read it,
The sun will burn this concrete,
After my body was freezed,
.''And become   body bag meat