posted on Dec, 6 2016 @ 02:52 PM
She was a youth then playing in the fields of her grandfather’s ranch. The wind dry and sweeping though the marsh lifted her hair, and made it
appear to have a life of its own with the sun adding a certain mysticism to it, her skin like ponds of crème smooth and white. She would do this
every early morning when her mother would leave her to be taken care of so that she could tend to the cattle and sheep just a mile up the road at the
Mill, whom which the owners of also owned the land the grandfather lived on.
She always held these memories as diamonds in the rough that would later turn of her life. The Mill now closed, after the owners reached an agreement
with some developers that were interested in building low income housing on the land. Her grandfathers’ ranch sadly enough was also part of the
deal. Now she finds herself back on her grandfather ranch but now it’s become a magnet of filth and crime.
She’s addicted to amphetamines and her hair no longer dances with the dry wind swept air now it only helps to add to the dryness of her skin and the
chapping of her lips. Rails of bruised veins stagger across her forearms creating images if you’re imaginative enough to see past what they are,
constellations now darting like stars. Her eyes resemble gun holes with an emptiness that’s unable to express compassion for all the love in her has
become just another anxious junkie willing to fall in—love with a pusher for another hit to help her deal from the pain of the last.
Things have truly fallen apart for this beauty queen, this goddess in a land of johns, a victim to her own sad song. When the sun has set and she’s
laid another anonymous at the behest of her fit dominating addiction, she rests her body on broken woods steps at what use to be a chapel that had
invited those lost to come in to find redemption and hopefully some sense. Life for someone who has only had 18 candles on her cake should not be this
hard but her mother a recovering alcoholic after losing the Mill job found the bottle to be more of a man then she ever needed in life even when her
truck wrapped around a tree ending any other affairs that might have been started by unscrewing the cap off.
This took the young woman from her mother's side to an assisted living home where her grandfather would take care of her like he once did all those
years ago, now his social security isn’t enough to match the increased costs and for the first time she finds herself on the corner this time taking
care of her grandfather but its not enough and soon they find themselves on the streets, her grandfather now too old to work and even remember his
own name so she often finds herself going back in her dreams to when she was a little girl playing in those fields only able to recall and not feel
that warm sun on her skin. The streets took her grandfather not long after her mother was over taken by her lover. The narcotic soft overture ends and
the grind of a car with failing breaks wakes her long enough to cement the reality that has become her. A junkie that’s fallen asleep at the broken
steps of hope.