Undertaking

CATEGORY

just different

It’s a hood night
Holding my pen tight
In the glow of a nightlight
Waiting for something
To jump out for me to write
In the closet or under the bed
Surrounded by pain colored
Red and a whiff of dead
Don’t feel a thing though
Using my brain to close
The punctured vein
No time to do it for the vine
Nothing pickles like brine
Sweet seawater
A tall glass to order
Reminding me to remember
Peeking out from my
Whereabouts
I’m sober now
The photos tell me
I once was young
My mind seems to be blind
To that fact
Looking back is a trap
To many times
I’ve heard the snap
Forgot to unpack
Now is all I got
Later is not found
On the map