Worst Of The Worst. By Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

Fatigue is endless.
The weight of life is
like the weight of death.
It is curtains for
the whole lot of us.
Our waistlines shrink
or expand. Our guts 
enlarge or are snipped.
Our pockets are picked.
It is a sin to
cut out the eyes of
your love with scissors.
The streets are harsh. Stay
clear of priests who prey
on the very young.
Stay clear of the rich
who have their way with
those with poor judgment.
The open door lets 
in the worst of the

worst from the harsh streets.
They take advantage 
of women, children, and
men. They take pieces 
off their prey and
leave victims ruined.
Across the world, far
from America,
the fatigue spreads out
into gardens and the
pavements. Needles and
pins fill reservoirs 
and empty houses.
Fatigue makes us ill.
Fatigue rubs us out.

Luis has lived in California for 45 years. He works in the mental health field in Los Angeles. 

His poems have appeared in Ariel Chart, Dope Fiend Daily, The Rye Whiskey Review, Under The  Bleachers, Yellow Mama Webzine, and ZYX. Kendra Steiner Editions has published 8 of his chapbooks.