two poems by Wesley Francis

she won’t speak

of her father
except to say
he used to smoke weed
before he died

now she pops
antidepressant pills
pain pills
ecstacy
any mood
altering drug
she can get
her hands on

& while high
she asks me
to fuck her hard
says she likes
lying beside me

but she is
silent sober
perhaps suicidal
her brain playing
a constant relapse
of panic

lost without
her father
unable to say to me
the things
he would have
understood

stagnant

they would smoke weed & sprawl out
on the bed watching shitty
cartoon network t.v.

they would grin like
retarded inbred cousins
& cough out laughter

it made me sick to my stomach,
sputtering with stillness & after
ten minutes

no matter how buzzed
i was feeling, after two beers
or ten

i would leave the house, cross
the lawn, get in my car
& drive away

it’s been a year & i haven’t gone back
but i believe they are still
lying there

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