An addict stuck in an impossible situation, innocent doesn't matter this time. |
When' Locked In' is Home A key might be somewhere. The door is locked from the inside, I am sticky with blood, search for a sharp. I cry, shiver in damp dark. There's bodies in here. I know the putrid smell of death. Gun shots, screams. I roll under a bed. I can be quiet: hold my breath like the dead. Who can the dead be? Dirty dealer and “do anything” trick? I didn't shoot.Just glad it ain't me. Sun comin up, I'll be able to see. Somebody will be lookin. I want out; gotta get to Meth Clinic. Stuck with a body; listenin to it's death clock. I already know about a jail block. I crawl around, cold tile, a door; metallic smell, puke, another body, a dirty window, I see light a way out, could be alright? For a bright minute, I am a free bird. Green plants, a sunrise, "normal" life. Maybe the prints won't talk. Locked doors don't scare me, open ones do. Been behind a locked door most of my life. My old man took what he wanted or I suffered. Fell in love with smack, needle don't beat you. Granny tole heaven tales, taste of H does too. Jail gives you Methadone. bed, dry clothes, food, even a lover. Better than a mat that says "Home" But don't mean it. By Kathie Stehr 2021 |