go through my pockets by Kyle Christopher

go through my pockets

 

i want to relapse today,

to plant some pills in the garden

and crash my car into it.

 

the cemetery lengthens,

climbing up the hills and into ditches

where the junkies scrape rain-

water into spoons,

as spring promised, it blooms

to blood in a syringe

like a flower in a jar.

 

the sun sinks like a push

into the inner city,

confusing the children that shoot

needles like squirt guns.

 

my eyes won’t stay open.

come back, come back my friend,

and go through my pockets.

 

i don’t want to be alone.

Kyle Christopher is a recovering poet residing on the west coast of Florida. He has dedicated his life to the arts, and studied creative writing at Florida State University. The message is hope and the promise is freedom.

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