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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Other · #2186909
April 2 Entry. NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo 2019.
Walking down the street,
doing my thing,
going to the shop,
to buy some tosh.

A transient sits on the corner path,
stinking of reality's depression,
peddling for change as he always does,
how did this tramp ever find himself here?

I won't pay for this sad hobo's vices,
so step over his outstretched laziness,
My little cash is mine, and mine alone,
to spend on pointless vain necessities.

Ding, the door alarm in the corner-store,
I grab snacks, drinks, frozen meals and dog food,
for my Kelpie puppies skip and Geoffrey.
All I will need to live well for a week.

The attendant is staring straight ahead,
her life already drained from her young eyes.
Tallied up, forty-bucks and ninety-cents,
not a terrible price for groceries.

I reach in my pockets, but nothing's there,
my heart beats in syncopated jazz rhythms.
No wallet, no money, no way to pay,
no keys, no phone, none of my gosh-darn things.

Have to put these goodies back on the shelf.
Misery drives me, now what can I do?
Except retrace my days events in hopes,
I'll find what's fallen out of my pockets.

As I walk the broken cement path home,
the vagrant laughs at my poor misfortune.
Why he'd be so inclined to harass me,
is beyond my infuriated mind.

One hard stomp wipes his stupid smile away,
the next one shuts his fat trap forever.
Blood seeps from his broken open noggin,
pooling onto his torn cardboard placard.

Again I feel panicked, what have I done?
I've made one dead drifter lie here lifeless.
Staring at his corpse isn't fixing squat,
but maybe hiding his foul body will.

His limp remains are too heavy to lift,
forcing me to drag him over asphalt.
I pull him across the steamy black-top,
bright red and blue lights flicker closer.

Two blue-clad law-boys carry me away,
kaleidoscopic views out the window,
confused and repentant though still lucid,
like I'm daydreaming this horrid nightmare.

Courtroom carnivals swirl unpleasantly,
hollow words echoing pained nonsense,
I don't understand anything that's said.
All I hear is guilty, my chains remain.

I am led to my barred eternity,
unflattering orange jumpsuit I wear,
a bunked cell shared between two prisoners,
this common hell of concrete and iron.

My room-mate beast is my only friend here,
everyone wants me dead for some reason.
This wicked place is all that I deserve,
perhaps I should let them do as they want.

Frayed wiring to my old television,
shocks me every time I change the channel.
A little pain for a moments escape,
I don't need anything inside these walls.

No keys, no wallet,
no phone, no life,
none of my gosh darn things.
No freedom, none.
© Copyright 2019 Laurie Razor (laurie-razor at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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