I don't want to die

 This gon' be kind of like a log, wanted to let you know. Tears, blood pumping back to my body from the peak of my skull. Think about it, I do, just imagining the kids and families out in the streets. No money, no shoes, no food, most of 'em with no father. You know the reason for that. I don't want to use the slang, this is serious than Em once being 2 hours away from death. 

Walking on the streets, down the alley with a Langston Hughes poem in my hand, paper. My earbuds ringing, whispering the screams of Cleveland boys, a group. Then I read the poem as my earbuds shrink the sound down the hole of my ear, once again my skull padding the tears. "See you at the crossroads". My legs starts to relax because he is there, yeah, his hands wide open, his stomach breaking 95-96 Bulls' record. Approaching, using the gotta go the half you went every next time, I have 4 quarters. Sitting next to him and smelling the dry, hot, plain cereal that I brought him last Wednesday. 4 quarters. Giving him a prayer. "Where your momma at", the words disappointingly flowing out into an empty bowl, then he opening his mouth. The poles made of liquid between his lips, "she's cherry picking downtown". 3 quarters and a poem read. Getting up to my feet and walking to the only house made out of concrete in the hood. His eyes for the last time scanning my skinny body. 7 P.M. A light finally giving birth to his dead skin. A sudden stab in my spine, I turn my head to see him, a thug approaching him, lying next to him and reading the poem, "I miss my uncle", "I don't wanna kill my dog" and crying. So I finally put the key into the lock then staring down the alley for one last time to hear the screams. My goddamn boots sweated and I stand there, a crossroad, another prayer. He, the thug, he, the kid, them people. We get together. We all have our pockets filled with pure water, a washing bucket in the middle, we cry all night long, we die, "I don't wanna die". Morning, bucket filled with cold water, we drink it. It wakes up all the body down a throat. Yeah, then we lie on the sidewalk and die choking under a sun that shines my key lock, that shines the arrival of a momma who gon' be mistakenly be able to buy herself another bedrock.