Sunday, May 5, 2013

Junkie by Corynn Bernhardt ("really awesome story poem assignment")


Junkie by Corynn Bernhardt

The sun rising over
Just turning over
In the bed I awake
Bruised from the night before
From the event I can
I can recall to you.
A bruising on my arm
Signifies all I’ve lost
From the filth I’ve pumped in
Through the syringe I hold.
Searching, poking, squeezing,
Addicted to find a new
A feeling I lost a –
            My son in the other…
            Working on his homework.
            Scribbling in pencil
            He can barely hold
            Between his two fingers.
            The paper shredding,
            His hand cramping up,
            Exercising his mind.
Not know I’m losing,
I take another
And another. Can’t stop.
I must keep going.
The only blood I have
Runs white and cloudy,
Makes my skin cold and wet,
Chilling my body,
Giving me goose-bumps,
My hair stands on end.
A bead of sweat falls.
            A bead of sweat falls
            From exhaustion. Running.
            Far away he goes.
            His short legs kicking hard.
            His torn sneakers
            Barely touching the ground
            Over the cracks in the road.
            His thin arms flailing.
            His homework left undone.
            He left a note behind.
But I can’t read it.
My head is spinning.
                        I hear the bathroom door.
                        I know what he’s doing.
                        I’m not stupid. I know.
                        He thought I was doing
                        Homework, but I wasn’t.
                        I was writing a note.
                        A note to say goodbye.
                        If he has given up
                        And given in again,
                        Then so have I. I’m done.
                        I’m only ten, you know?
                        The grown up. The support.
                        But now I run like the
                        Kid I’m supposed to be.
                        He won’t come after me.
                        He’ll just stand there and watch,
                        Turn around and return
                        The life he chose over
                        Me, his son. He chose it.
The only thing I know;
What I hold in my hand,
Not what’s running away.
I don’t even think
About where he’s going.
I’ve already lost.
The only thing left
To gain is a new hit.
Man, it’s the only thing
That can get me through.
How did I get this far?
            How far has he gone?
                        How far have I gone?
                        Not as far as he has.
                        Couldn’t run far enough.
            He couldn’t go far.
I’m sure I said the same.
            I hope he returns.
                        I hope he comes back.

No comments:

Post a Comment