Archive for August 2014

The Walk Home

i was on the train, unlimited & express
cutting across steel spine stories. movie road
kill decorates the walk home,
dry mouthed & blood shot. pigeons hobbling

i ignore & walk past them. i’ve been ignoring
death since adolescence, passing the bullets &
the blood. paparazzi write about the decaying
inner city like maggot paint chipping off the walls

the block was chaotic yet peaceful, the way
apathy lingers, quiet & suffocating.
stand on a broken foot, a foot broken
in three places, swollen, the bruise

shined black, swelled a size bigger
bit cheek, blood collected everywhere
& my mouth, spilling over until the floor was red
the walk home is never a new one.

but there’s always a new step to take
a new star in the sky to see but
i’m hobbling, counting the steps
leaving a trail, a kind of reminder of how to escape

if need be, the concrete’s stained 
my lungs
were flooded, i opened a hole with a knife to drain
them, i stepped in a puddle, left a footprint, i finally
got home, lost my keys, lost 3 liters dry mouthed

& blood was everywhere.