Patron Saint

Cold Morpheus snowflakes descended all night You blinked them away with amphetamine tears, A veil so defiantly, sugary white When the whole sleeping world disappears; For who will remember your un-ravaged face When you stood like a child at the edge of the park? You may leave no particular trace As you bow out and become as the dark. How many walk everyday on this street Identikit junkies the same as can be, With slackened paces of ramshackle feet, Deprived of people and places to be; How they crawl through their filth all alone, To go nowhere, be nothing at all, Mangy hearts sink like cemetery stone, They are callers with no one to call. Oh to shiver in bed with no sleep Dreams convulsed with the absence of dream Love like keepsakes you chose not to keep, Silent screams you can no longer scream; Yet they feel you still out there somewhere, For their hearts never felt that you died, Above and beyond they still care, And they wish you were still by their side. The cloven clawed opiates will drag you down? Until you give up and surrender all hope In the thrall of some dead alive town Wrecked patron saint of the needle and dope; Not Joan of Arc in a snowstorm of fire, Just sick and tired at the end of a rope, A carcase-like bird letting go of the wire, Farewell patron saint of the needle and dope.