Sister Cyanide

Sister Cyanide

Like most days, I end up
Driving
On a highway, down in Texas.
Since I’ve been back on the streets, my
Driving
Is quite defensive.
No matter, Officer Brady’s wailing siren elected
Me,
In need of justice and a shiv through my intestines.

White light stars, tinted Blue and red, I could have pulled over technically But floored the gas instead.

What I’ve got tucked away, Twice wrapped in my glovebox hiding.

What I’ve got sewn into the stitches,
Of my jacket’s pocket lining,
Two capsules I vowed to take, if again they ever find me
Driving…  gulp… gulp…

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/8c3mzh/dull_is_the_blade/dxd2cwe/ https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/8bwt1j/when_my_son_asks/dxd2wgx/