Beats on barrels leaking old brew. Corn brooms sweeping into cracks their filth. They were toothless wonders with muscles like a plow-horse and the determination of the desperate. But it wasn’t desperation that moved them it was alienation. The sneers motivated them to dig deeper into their creepiness. We have no grounds for judgement when we too tread perilously on the fence of normalcy, of decency. The courage to exist at odds with the world in the world is to be admired. They had voices no one heard for we couldn’t get past their appearance; smeared in shit. The stench of them sent us screaming back into our cinnamon houses; sweet and classically unforgiving. So much easier on this side of the glass.
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