He’s past it

Werner is not unconscious
from drugs and liquor,
he’s past it

and a white ambulance
arrives with a flashing
red light.

He lies on the ground
in his own vomit
and urine
that lays yellow, orange and white
around him
and empty dark brown beer bottles
and a bottle of Johnny Walker
is broken
and the glass
stabs into his arm
and the man
on the label
walks past him

and blowflies
are everywhere on him
and a pot pipe
clings with vomit
to his mouth.

There’s an injection
with the needle
still in his vain

and his eyes are big and grey
and empty without life
while his right hand
clutches a guitar

as if he’s thinking
about the next chord
and there’s tiredness
and emptiness on his face.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!