Tranquil smog drifter,
periodically checking his mask filter,
taking steps toward a bright future,
scratching at old scars and a fresh suture.
A wound from a blunder,
path of thread, preventing the sunder,
more steps taken, delivery start,
hardcore plastic doors pulling apart.
Velvet-clad security with stoic and aggressive visage,
he hands the man the package and they look at him, as if sewage,
he reveals a worn PDA for signatory purpose,
they snatch and scratch, seemingly furious.
Before he could wheel around and away,
“this package has been opened” they say,
with a worryingly look, panicked,
the seal that he damaged.
With a rush of energy,
he makes a break, not wanting to become an effigy,
flying strides and squealing boots,
the door starts to seal, the building in cahoots.
Our drifter with furious tenacity,
bends through the door with surprising elasticity,
now the door is shut,
temporarily trapping the client’s mutt.
Prize in hand, mask in the other,
onto his face to quickly cover,
from the smog, thick and shimmering red,
now all he must do is make it home to bed.
The prize stolen but definitely deserved,
credit chips, chemical vials, glinting like gold unearthed,
this will keep his family fed,
and his addictions ahead.
Burning cacophony, piercing touch,
a hole where once was flesh, organs, bone, veins, arteries, much,
with one last look across the clouded rooftop void,
nothing in sight for him to avoid.
A quick application of chemical joy,
syringe in hand, handled like a child with a toy,
by strained step he vanishes into the elevator,
screaming relief secure, life made a little more sore.