Heroin takes you places

He’s going to dig a hole
In the desert
Before he puts a bullet
In his brain
No one would find him
No one would realize  
That all this time,
He was just that sad.  
When I left this morning
He was weeping
And I thought about his piles
And piles and piles
Of ruin.
Warrants, withdrawals, women
Who have left him
Women who used him
And needle marks, rivers
Running up and down his arms
And his seven year old son…
Confused because daddy
Uses a spoon over the stove
Instead of a bowl
To melt black tar
In front of everyone now
The desperation so bleak
Consumptive
And tired….
 
I smooth his hair
Wipe the moisture of his brow
And try to avoid
Thinking about the hole
The metaphoric,
The one still waiting to be dug.