Score

He came prowling down the dark quiet street, a man with a craving he had to delete,
It had been nearly a day since he's had his last fix, since he'd filled his torn veins with those evil brown sticks.

His family gone, he's been long now disowned, he sanity thin and no place to call home, This was the life he had chosen alone, no-one to call if he picked up the phone.

What could he steal ? And who would he hurt ? He looked for his chance, his sense's alert.
In homes all around him the neighborhood slept, unaware that a junkie for heroin wept.

He remembered a time when he wouldn't dare steal, immoral, unfair, but he then became ill, he remembered time when his blood had been clean, he remembered a life that was not just a dream.

He remembered his first meeting with the drug he thought friend, the consuming addition that he did not intend, he remembered his job and thought fondly of pay, but that was before he got strung out each day.

He had liked his apartment, he had liked his old life, he thought about this and it cut like a knife, all he now wanted was to go and get high, to nod out of this world, let reality die.

He continued to think as he smashed through the glass, of the little red van, he had not come to pass, these thoughts all consuming as he opened the door, but as he ripped out the stereo he thought ony to score.

He left prowling down the dark quiet street, a man with a craving, a dealer to meet.

Layla Jade
Copyright 2007

Note: This Poem was written after my friend had very kindly lent me his van, the morning after he loaned it to me I went to move it only to find it had been broken into during the night and the stereo stolen. This was the inspiration behind 'Score'.