What Did I Kill Back There?

Who says a mind is different
Than it’s been or ever cared to be
When it’s high
Contorted like a paper clip
Bending oddities serving the utmost purpose
But it’s far from any familiar pain of order
Like a fractured rubber bone
It’s only angst is in the let(come)down
Normalcy has long since
Whipped back to suffering
Please hold onto this amazement
Rubber stamp the ticket again
For the return trip

A mother waves
Goodbye to a bus
And a child inside
Snickers and chides at what
Mother doesn’t know
As she goes home and irons uniforms
Little Timmy’s recesses speak of
Being drug enhanced and pompous
But the second pot of coffee is gone
Back at home and the pile
Is starched and folded
With arresting speedy prowess

Who the fuck can say they’re alive
When they’re so low
Thoughts hackneyed and commonplace
‘Alive’! and ‘bright’!
As a possum scurrying about a gravel road
Right in the path of a truck
Full of stale and humdrum effects
That’s being driven by a father
Who knows his son
Can defy the peer pressure
I know I did, after all
He thinks as he extinguishes
Another cigarette and wonders fleetingly
What did I kill back there?