Another love song for the smoking wreckage of you

You whir on empty
if not on fumes or cheap slaughter
from whatever neon window
still staining the street after midnight
will slap a happily plastic package
into your free hand
(the one not in a handshake with death)
for your dishwashing riches.

Your clothes hang off of you
as though you were a coathanger,
as though your shoes lay decaying
in a towering mass
and you wait patiently for the shower
that will be your last.

You stalk, hunched, taut, hunting,
as though you have one breath left
and you must ration it for the rest
of the harrowed, choking death
you call life.
What is that herd of rabid buffalo
that chases you in your mind?
That stampedes down your throat
with every thirsty suck
of your nicotine?

Reviews

[LastMonth]

I'll be honest and say I'm both new to this site, and to Poetry. I usually have a hard time relating to most of the poems on the site.

But something in yours made me stay and read it.
And then read it again.
Finally a third time is out of the way and I'm ready to review it.

The most powerful line to me was the handshake with death. It packs a real punch. Why? because it's so true. This is a serious topic that you chose to tackle. One that plagues about every person, directly or indirectly. I never smoked in my life. But my parents and friends do, so I guess that's how I relate.

The poem is well written (in my humble and inexperienced opinion) and I like it.
Thank you for the poem and keep on writing.

[M. Shepherd]

Yes it's a tough subject to cover and I have already offended one of my dear friends and reviewers with it. It's sensitive, and this poem is far from sensitive. But it's an ugly truth, so an ugly poem speaks to that. :) Much thanks for stopping by, friend.

[. serah .]

-- i've had a chance to read this powerful piece with a clearer head... and i think it's brilliantly written... -- sorry for overreacting... -- the previous one and this one are extremely poignant... and the true critique of this piece would be that there's no critique... -- i apologize for not being receptive enough... and i promise to be receptive in the future... -- you're a wonderfully gifted poetic heart, marcie... and that's the only truth on this page... :)

[M. Shepherd]

That is too kind, serah. I hope I didn't come off as too harsh in my defense..

[. serah .]

-- not at all, not at all... -- i actually saw the reason why i overreacted... -- in case you wanna know why i wasn't thinking straight, let me know... -- i'll point you to the post that contains info on why i was raw and edgy... -- not pressuring you to read me but in case you're curious... let me know...

[M. Shepherd]

Of course yes

[. serah .]

-- cool... i'll mail you in just a bit...

[jacob erin-cilberto]

if this doesn't make one quit...these words much stronger than any Patch...

terrific metaphor...it's a drug...and too many are hooked, and destroying themselves.

j.

[M. Shepherd]

True, true, sir jacob! Much thanks for stopping by. :)