Beneath the Concrete Sky: The Needle’s Numb
Lila’s kitchen once smelled of coffee and cinnamon, a tidy space in her Portland duplex. At forty, she’d been a cashier, steady shifts, a cat named Momo, a life small but hers. The heroin started after a car accident, pain pills from the ER, then a friend’s offer when the script ran dry. “Just to take the edge off,” she’d said, the needle’s prick a shock, then a hush, pain gone, the world a soft gray blanket. She’d sit on her couch, the high a quiet she craved, Momo purring beside her. It was relief, not a habit, she told herself, a secret she kept from the fluorescent hum of the store. Addiction wasn’t a threat then, just a balm, a numb she welcomed, its danger buried beneath the concrete sky of routine.
The Streets’ Pull
The slide was slow, then steep. Lila’s doses climbed, once a week became daily, the high a need she couldn’t shake. She’d shoot up before shifts, eyes glazing behind the register, hands fumbling change. The job slipped away, caught nodding off, a pink slip her goodbye. Rent went unpaid, the duplex lost, Momo left with a neighbor who’d stopped asking questions. She moved to the streets, a backpack her home, scoring from a dealer named Taz under the Burnside Bridge. The heroin was her anchor, numbing the cold, the hunger, the shame of cardboard signs begging for coins. Her sister, Beth, tried, calls, a rehab offer, but Lila hung up, “I’m fine.” The streets pulled her deeper, addiction a tide she didn’t fight, its grip a concrete sky she lived beneath, too lost to see the fall.
The Bridge’s Shadow
The bridge became her world, a slab of gray over a river that murmured through her days. Lila was a specter, hair matted, skin weathered, tracks like dark veins up her arms. She’d huddle with others, junkies, drifters, a silent tribe, sharing needles, trading scraps for a hit. The high was thin now, a fleeting warmth chased with more, the crash a shiver of bones and despair. She’d shoot up in the shadow, the river’s hum a lullaby, watching friends fade, Rico to an overdose, Jen to the cold. Taz took her last dollar, then her watch, leaving her with nothing but the baggie. The city moved above, cars rumbling, lights flickering, but beneath, time stopped, addiction a shadow that swallowed her whole. She’d whisper, “I’ll quit,” a lie to the wind, the bridge her tomb, its concrete sky a weight she couldn’t lift.
The Void’s Echo
Winter clawed in, rain soaking the camp, Lila’s blanket a sodden rag. She was frail, teeth loose, cough hacking, a body crumbling under the drug’s toll. The heroin barely worked, just a dull pulse before the void rushed back, hunger and frost her constant kin. She’d stumble to the mission, trade a meal for a fix, the needle her god, its echo a hollow prayer. Beth’s face haunted her, screaming “You’re killing yourself!”, but Lila pushed it down, too deep to climb out. One night, she shot too much, legs buckling, breath shallow, the river’s edge close. She woke, alive, a stranger’s shout pulling her back, but the void lingered, a whisper of death she couldn’t unhear. Addiction wasn’t life, it was survival, a hell beneath the concrete sky, its danger a noose she wore, too numb to cut.
The Pulse Persists
Spring crept in, mud under the bridge, Lila still there, alive, somehow. Her hands shook, veins scarred, but she breathed, a pulse beneath the wreckage. She’d lost it all, home, cat, sister, to the needle’s reign, yet stood, a stubborn weed in concrete cracks. The high was a ghost, the crash her norm, but she’d scavenge, cans, coins, a hit when she could. Taz was gone, busted or dead, and the camp thinned, faces fading like smoke. She’d sit by the river, the sky still gray, and feel it, a flicker, not hope, but endurance. Addiction’s hell had claimed her, its danger a weight she’d never shed, but escape wasn’t her fight, just persisting, a heartbeat beneath the concrete sky, a survivor too broken to rise, too alive to die.
Beneath the Concrete Sky - Lila’s Poem
Verse 1
Lila pours coffee, a life once neat,
Momo purrs soft at her feet,
A crash brings pain, a pill to mend,
The needle hums, a dark new friend,
Her days turn gray, a slow retreat.
Verse 2
The high creeps in, a velvet veil,
Cashier’s hum fades, her grip grows frail,
One hit blooms to a daily rite,
The duplex fades from warmth to night,
Addiction weaves a muted tale.
Verse 3
Streets claim her, a backpack’s load,
Taz deals dust on a river road,
The rush turns thin, a hollow sigh,
Beth’s voice pleads, she turns aside,
The bridge looms dark, her new abode.
Verse 4
Concrete arches, a shadowed keep,
Needles shared where drifters sleep,
Rico’s gone, Jen’s breath runs cold,
The high’s a ghost, the crash takes hold,
Addiction’s tide runs bleak and deep.
Verse 5
Rain soaks through, her frame turns slight,
Cough racks lungs in endless night,
A hit too strong, the edge draws near,
A shout pulls back her fading fear,
The void hums low, a grim delight.
Verse 6
Winter bites, the camp thins bare,
Taz disappears, no deals to share,
Scavenged cans, a coin for dope,
A thread of life, a fraying rope,
Beneath the sky, a stark despair.
Verse 7
Scars trace years, her veins run dry,
A pulse persists, she doesn’t die,
The river flows, a muted song,
No hope to rise, just carry on,
Addiction’s weight, a ceaseless cry.
Verse 8
Concrete looms, her world stays gray,
A weed in cracks, she sways, she stays,
Hell’s shadow clings, a life undone,
Yet breath holds firm, a battle won,
Lila lives beneath the fray.
