County Lines spread evil
all of the time
a cross all the living and the dead
their lines sink into our time:
we need them gone.

A spring day in late May,
she can no longer stand 
she must fall:
tall, crumpled, bent, dead.

She has lost the lines that link
her to her family, friends.
lines now link only random things:
road, rail, red phone box,
needle, plunger, sink
sink into into a moment of  unguarded atonement.

In time her lines enmeshed in this net
of county lines, times, places
that  offered her a line to sniff
for free. Woopee!

Crack cocaine, heroin, skunk
sink that once-famed jewel, liberty.
speeding through her veins, her arteries,
to a firing in the brain: O! yes,this is what you need.
just add a line, one at a time, 
you can pay me anytime.

All the fears and all the tears
of this one poor child’s  years
hearts break 
as she promises:
no more whiskey, no more wine
no more county lines,
too fucking late 
to shut the fucking gate.

?si=5M_OkxjNSkY1Li5X