Thursday, March 12, 2015

Keith Wesley Combs- A Poem


in a dimly lit
with two crackheads
every inch of resin
they have left
from their pipes.
they work and work
on the screens
made out of steelwool
and scrape
all of the shit
they can get out.

I take a hit
and light
a cigarette simultaneously.
letting it out
I wash the taste
down with my beer.

we smoke
drink beer
and vodka.
light cigarette
after cigarette
until two o'clock
in the morning
when another friend
comes by
with a hand full
of cash.
they rush
out the door
into the street
to score.

I lay back
in my reclining chair
and quickly
fall to sleep
waiting peacefully
for the sun
to awaken
my tired soul.

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