Sunday, April 04, 2021

NaPoWriMo, Day Four, Poem Three





Crack

Down to count
own fall
 
check shoulders
on the mat
 
yet you
just sit.
 
Junkie nod
sans junk
 
is easy
just wait 
 
and assess
where you are

days end
veins empty
 
fixless fade
to nothing.

Strung out
all legal

beware
life leads

to more drugs
if smart.
 
 
James Joyce's saffron touched
love letters are up to his relatives

to handle. He got away scot-free,
let his yearnings jut out

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