Little Seeds

Heroin Diaries

That was real 
bare on the bathroom floor 
   These shelves 
   Dis shelved 
   Deceit 
   Dishonest 
   Destruction 
   And utter despair 
And we’re bare, 
   vulnerable 
   little vultures 
A seed 
A sprout 
A leaf 
A blossom 
We were someone’s thought, 
We were planned, my darling 
To have been woven together 
in this tapestry of life 
A needle 
A thread 
A spool 
A canvas 
I pass that clock 
That damned clock 
In the dark hour 
the slowest of torture 
Outside that window 
I watch the passersby below 
   He takes a piss 
   from the second story window 
I want something 
those strangers have

And so we grew 
Blossomed, brilliant petals 
   of daunting, dark 
   succulent, seductive appeal 
Faded quickly 
Fell apart 
Brittle, dry 
Disintegrated to the Earth 
but little seeds 
did we ever sow

I look at that second story window 
And I laugh, sinister 
and feel a pain of empathy 
for the sap who resides there now, 
for I am only 
but finally, 
a stranger, 
                  a passerby