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Poetry || SubmissionsBillie McCorkleBennyThe car came from BennyHe found it in a grimy alley Behind a dumpster peering at life Struggles, gunshots, beatings Occurred every minute of every second In Benny's alley he found a needle Left behind by a hopeless deal Tripping on bodies, some dead some overdosed Searching for a better world Only to find rank smells and diseased rats Benny sat in his alley Sleeping off the fiction Wanting to awake in another reality Woken up by the red, white and blue sound Icy metal clamped around his wrists Locked in a case with other animals Souls breathing with blackness Screams are taken for laughter Movements pit against each other Benny walked out to a paradise parking lot Skeletons were waiting for another spin at the wheel Lunch was confusion, dinner was torment Old-fashioned and right on time The car came from Benny He found it in a grimy alley Billie McCorkle grew up in a small rural southern Indiana town, graduating from Indiana University with a degree in journalism and U.S. history. My passions are writing and filmmaking. Today's Situation
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