The alleyway was dark and dusty
plastic wrappers clinging to corners
of depression , escape trapped by wind shifts
swirling in the tunnels of hope,
desperate drips from broken pipes
beating a soulful click, click
breaking into puddles of slime.

He lay there motionless
unmoved by the activity around him
devoid of all sound and sense
asleep in his gutter of dreams
still
eyes shut.

Asleep he was unmoving
Christ himself
crucified on the cross
of an alcoholic society.

His only resurrection
a few drinks away. .......

Author Notes

AA?
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 2 months ago