You get so
alone and
your heart
grows stale
your tongue is
a rancid
whip of
negativity
you stroke it
on your problems
crack it
down the backs
of your slaves -
your friends
now,
you really are
a cracker

You get so
careless and
you wake up
in the morning
feeling like
a starless globe
of midnight
nothing
is real
you are only
a spirit
swimming in a soup
of bones and blood
and you will
only be happy
when God
pulls the plug
from the drain

You get so
depressed that
neither the message
from the dove,
nor your lover's
heart handed
to you on a
platter,
matter
anymore

And then the
icecaps melt
and the doves
deliver the
plague
and the ice water
burns like
hell
when you piss
the cupcake
chokes you,
a drunken mother
runs her red light,
just like
you wanted
her to
and then,
it is too late
to write the
poem
which could have
saved
someone
else.

© Cambridge Jenkins IV

grits poetry prose writing cjiv revenge white horse atlanta

Login to add a comment.