Everything Ends up Blue. By John Kross

The pills I take at bedtime, blue as starling eggs
are supposed to hatch the inner me, crack
the thin blue shell of my social maladjustment,
instead they make me feel like shit
but I take them anyway.

Its not as if another color can make it any better
red or green or yellow doesn’t matter
they all suck, I get shit results anyway.

the red make me angry,
the green make me nauseous,
the yellow turn me coward,
afraid to leave the house.
The blue? They bleed
their color in everything I do.

These fucking pills are such a crutch.
I wouldn’t be surprised if pills were made
from dead men's bones, stolen from graves
and crushed into dust then blended with color,
red, green, yellow and  blue. Don’t forget
the blue, especially the blue because in the end

everything ends up blue,

blue as the pills I take at bedtime.
Blue as starling eggs.

John Kross is an aspiring poet from Arlington, Texas.

He is fortunate enough to have been published numerous

times by Kind of Hurricane Press including Storm Cycle, the 

"Best of " collections for 2012,2013 and 2014 along with several 

print anthologies including "Something's Brewing", and "Petals

in the Pan". More recently you can find his work at Red Weather, 

Mad Swirl, Keep Poems Alive and VerbalArt.