Mom Finds A Dead Artist, Who Was An Addict, In The Empty Lot, On Our Alphabet City Block….
Coming home one day. Mom saw a mass of dead weight. Tanning in the rays of a moonlit sun. Poking out a knee. Or was it a foot? Surrounded by trash. In the empty lot. His pockets full. Of slips of paper. With drawings. Quite good. Of tenement building tops. And frames of doors. As well as birds. In minute detailed genius. Mostly of pigeons. Some falcons. A hawk. And even an eagle with a crooked beak. Then there were the drawings of rodents. Hundreds of mice. In oozing wet wombs. And also rats with shifty eyes. With switchblades in their venomous claws. So many pictures stuffed in his pockets. The cops said they made him too heavy to lift. So in the end. They burned them all. All those dreams of an addict in stencil. Or of an artist in blood. And once the talent was finished. In ashes. The cops asked my mom. For the closest shop? For doughnuts and coffee? No joke. Cause in the End. What was it that he had become? But an organic loss of life. Murdered by a needle. To the last remaining vein. Worth plucking. His wallet empty. A body with no name.
The cops said. Been finding a lot of them lately.
IF THESE WORDS MOVE YOU, PLEASE CLICK LIKE ON MY FACEBOOK LINK AT THE BOTTOM OF THIS PAGE OR ON THE FOLLOWING LINK SO YOU CAN SEE FUTURE BLOG-POSTS: https://www.facebook.com/JamericanWriter/
Also, I would love to hear your thoughts about this post. Please feel free to leave a comment. You can leave your comment below.