Ice

Hot acid pumping through corroded veins
Muscles contracting, lips foaming
Living free under the steel girders of high society
Enslaved by the addiction of his white deity
Eyes protruding with sweat dripping down his back
Teeth barred, veins protrude on his neck.
He screams at the clerk to open the register
His shaking .45 a gleaming threat of murder
Voices inside his meth riddled brain
tell him to pull the trigger, end his pain.
He obeys the voices, they keep him sane.
Flash in the barrel and the bullet flies,
leaving a hole between the clerk’s eyes.
Looting the place, he douses the rest in gas
As he steps out of the door he drops a match.
Ending his day walking away from the flame
Before he met crack, you and him were the same.

Ice

Linc Brown

Kimball, United States

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