this is to the ones like me
where to focus on
breathing
you start feeling
the weight
of the air around you
until the city is a buzz saw
with a dull blade chewing
so
when you have to wait for the train
do you wait or
do you see it as a moving art show
suffocating in lines
lines of traffic
power lines
cocaine lines
college ruled lines
empty
the lines at the grocery
and the lines at the hospital
or back in broken dim rooms
born and raised in that same
cigarette smoke
with walls toenail thick in yellow tar
on couch cushions that leak
fabric from frayed seams
where young
dreams
are fed
dose
after dose
after dose
of the
worst gateway drug
to exist.
lonely despair
sometimes
I wind up back there