Concrete

On our first date

and definitely our last,

I looked into his eyes

and I saw nothing behind them.

nothing

but a ball of clay

he called a brain

that society morphed with its strong hands

to look like shelves,

decorated not with books,

but trophies,

trophies engraved with sex

and appearance

and all that’s illegal.

cold, rigid

decorated with greed

it seemed even his sentences

were engraved into gold

and proudly sat upon his shelves

shining in the sterile light

and anything with the resemblance of intelligence

was swept into the corner

 

His pockets were empty

without enough money to pay for his ticket

OR mine

But his mind was full.

full of himself

full of prejudice,

full of misconceptions

and pre dispositions

so rigid

even the heat under his tires

going 100 mile per hour

couldn’t melt the walls he created

to block out ideas foreign from his own

 

when he asked me to smoke his pipe

c’mon we have an hour till curfew

c’mon just one hit

c’mon I got this for you

I should’ve said no.

nothing around us but

darkness

concrete

a lighter

and silence.

wishing I was anywhere but there

but instead

my common sense was anywhere but there.

why I let his car slither down the windy streets

in the darkness of night

farther and farther away from home

I know not.

why I let him push my lips to that pipe

I know not.

Perhaps

I was looking for someone to fill something

but he was as empty as my wallet after our date

as dry as my mouth after that hit

as distant from me as my mind was from earth after

that deep inhale

 

soon my body felt separated from my soul

a voice was speaking from my mouth

distant sounds vibrated in my ears

i listened to his words fall onto the concrete like bricks

until I fell apart onto the concrete like bricks

the world spinning underneath my head

i felt lost

searching for any sense of empowerment

but walking up stairs made of water

floating

 

and what was in his pipe that night?

where my conscious was that night?

what i was looking for that night?

how i let the ground slip from beneath my feet

and fell victim to a pit of emptiness

is a bigger mystery.

 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741