“The Streets”

“The Streets”

Alone I’d lay upon the roof

Lucky’s was my home

Starry witnesses declared proof,

I had nowhere else to roam.

If it would rain, onto the park

Packed and hiding under leaves

Creepy crawlies in the dark

Where ‘The Nothing’ retrieves

Enslaved by your whims and charms

Just trying to survive,

Burning, tracking, nose then arms.

Shelled out and yet, alive.

In the bookstore, I would work

Spit-bath taken in the back.

Others would flinch, stare and smirk

More mocking, I couldn’t hack

Like a rat caught in a maze

Plunging my reward,

Nightmares kept me in my daze

Escaping under sword

If I had chosen to run back,

Death would have been certain

I had now moved up to crack

And forward still a burden.

Spinning around in my home town

They shared their gossip and concern.

As I ran out and chose to drown,

“No one cares”; what I had learned.

Some wary guy I had never seen,

Offered slyly, to ‘help me out’.

Familiar scent upon the scene.

My hackles raised in doubt.

Grabbing my gear, I ran away

As far as my legs would carry.

Never, would I repeat those days.

By far, for me, too scary.

So once again into your arms

Somehow knowing what to expect

Putting up with all your harms

Why fight? My life was wrecked.

Three more beatings, I am strong

Melting flesh upon my neck

Firy fag did not last too long,

Soul more ashen with your fleck.

But I will not go back to the streets.

Too afraid I might survive.

Rather suffer all your heats.

A chance to not remain alive.

If I had chosen to kill myself.

Then God would not take me.

But sit this sin upon your shelf,

Some redemption possibly?

Step on my feet and push me back!

Who’s watching did not matter.

Head upon the concrete. Thwack!

Eyes jiggling, blood spattered.

“Let’s get her up on the bed”

I vaguely heard your brother say,

“You’ll be lucky if she ain’t dead,

‘Cause in prison you will pay”!

So used to the pain by then,

Thoughts turned back to the street

Precious memories packed again

Skip out in retreat

But that little friend of lies

Laid down with the powder

Brought further my demise

In silence I screamed louder

Many more months a slave to both.

A corpse for man and meth.

Then God pruned me for new growth,

Denying me my death.

Charli Richey

May, 2021