Being hungry and broke is like a man wandering a prostitution street.
A desired need, an empty pocket.
Candy-coated, displayed at shopfronts, they entice you with the pleasure they promise,
and the silencing of a desperate cry.
I have been hungry like a ghost in the seventh month and last night,
I was tempted by an éclair.
I would have caved if not that the things seen are transient.
This is my fast, my crucifixion
and I will remain faithful.
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