looking for places to hide away
to sleep off the unavoidable crashes
their nights of being high evoke.
I see them, each morning
as I descend from my camp.
They make few efforts to hide
some even crashing on sidewalks.
With the beds cut back
at the shelter, as every summer,
the addicts seek other places now
to use and then recover.
Or perhaps, to fade away.
The streets are more dangerous,
campsites stolen or pushed each night
as their funds run out finally
from these long, foolish binges.
But, seeking that next high,
they now prey upon others slowly.
The rates will climb until turning
of the calendar's pages comes.
Leaving me at higher risk,
being allergic to things they smoke,
and very aware of who's moving
around places I frequent regularly.
I'd rather keep my possessions.
We all are getting edgy.
Tempers fray more easily these days,
tattered by this incursion of evil,
flowing more from Hell's Block.
Darkness carries voices more often
than the winter nights passing held.
Darkness gives their crimes some cover
from eyes of the Law.
The city changes from safe,
to just an annex of Hell,
demonic druggies dancing amid imaginary flames
their substance abuse conjures forth
which leaves them all insane.
Patterns must change each night,
you dare not fall into routines
that they can predict when moving
lest you become their prey.
Sober hands hold gear tight,
Clear minds make eyes dart about
not from paranoia, just some caution
for the shadows have occupants.
Not all movements there hold
danger to me or other travelers,
but, heed my advice, night's wanderers.
Never flash your cash openly
for the druggies are back
and they drive summer's crimes.
11April2014 - Dyfedd Rex
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