Faceless Drifter Seeking an End to Eternity

Poverty has a name. That tiring breath, that dizzying sensation we call misery. Even as professed human rights activists from the land, and abroad, mouthing senseless words about political gossips, shaking the rotting skeletons in every closet, they know so little of beggarism and homelessness of the urban poor in Bangkok. 

I starve at the sights, I see the faces; such emptiness, that wicked lingering life in us. 

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