City Sidewalks
I slog my worn-out feet
from side to side
picking up dead cigarettes,
through city sidewalks
while I wait for a release.
Like the silhouette
of things to come,
cigarettes,
like a corpse in a mortuary,
lie stomped on
kissed by the lips of
others, addicts
like me.
My tired eyes, in search
of sustenance to feed
my withdrawals,
follow the misery
soaked into
the sidewalk cracks
and into the graffiti walls
of the darkened alley streets.
Aspirin or Tylenol
can’t relieve
the throbbing hammers
pounding away.
In my head, only
the moment
when my hunger is fed,
will my affliction,
for a split second
be released.
Can you feel it?
It’s orgasmic, euphoric…
I need it,
I want it
the rush
as fast as it surges,
is as fast as it’s gone.
I live by it, for it’s
my muse that lets me free.
All knots that strangle me, unravel.
It’s only for a minute of peace
and by now it’s obvious to everyone,
my eyes hide no secrets.
"we’re fine," they whisper,
"we’re great together," they mumble.
I slog my worn-out feet
from side to side
through city sidewalks
picking up dead cigarettes,
'til it's time for my next release.
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