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Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Pills for Pain

She sits on the plastic bench
For just a few short hours,
But it seems like days.

She keeps watch on
The signs and rumours
She carries in her mind.

Across from the library
Someday she will see
The other world.

She dreams
Of the soft grass
And fairies that talk.

Soon. Soon. They say.
The prince will come,
On a white steed flowing.

He'll take you to a place
Where love isn't trapped
In frailing flesh.

She feels its promise
Impatiently sucking
Through tendon and bone.

Memories smack bodies
adrift in the head offering
food and pills for the pain.

Her world's position shifts
To remember a word,
A smile, a moment shared.

She searches faces of pond ducks,
Caring gaolers drifting,
Quacking in their low walk.

Soon. Soon. They say.
The prince will come
To take you to sky palaces.

He'll take you to a place
Where death is the junkie
Dying on life's high.

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© CC License 2004-18. Unless otherwise stated all poetry, prose and art are the original work of the blog owner.