September of 2014, I was diagnosed with Scabies and have not been cured since. I have gone to thirteen doctors so far and am still as sick as I was when I started. I tried to hang on as long as I could but April of this year I lost my job and subsequently lost my home. While out on the streets living in my car, my car was broken into and they stole my laptop and a number of valuable documents like my social security card and my alien registration I-94 card which I need to work and get benefits. I would just like to ask for the $330 dollars needed to get a physical I-94 card (the SS office said I may only get help if I get a physical card not an electronic one). If it gets that far any excess over the $330 will go towards buying myself medicine for my disease. Ive been a good person all my life, I've never even had an unpaid parking ticket before I got sick. I hope someone out there will help. Thank you for your time. I had dreams of becoming a writer before, please enjoy some of my original poems, my name is DJ Salac and these are copywritten to my name. I- Absolute If I were to study sculpting for a lifetime Until I was able to chip and carve away An image of you from fine ivory marble If I were to paint your portrait in oils And carry it always to Brush and toil away until perfection If I were to write another poem Telling them of your wonders Your features, your gestures, and postures I would, I'm sure, simply fail To show you anymore beautiful Than you really are Because in things absolute There just is no more And you, I'd like to say Are absolutely beautiful II - Peripheral Theif As she sits beside me, I am a peripheral thief Stealing stares at the bloom of her eyelashes. Her apparel varies so from day to day That it is a game to guess her dress And what might be underneath-- scheming; plotting: how they might be undone. It is a thrill baiting eaves for her to take; Snatching code of her conversation to another. I lay back to admire her ticking ankle, Envisioning her perfect toes. I covet that gem of a moment When she flicks her hair Flashing clavicle and kissable neck; When she speaks I sneak a peek at The phantasmagoria on the sheen of her lips. So I call myself kin to the best of thieves, Because she will never know.