Sunday, September 23, 2012

memoirs of a junkie (pt. 1)

attitude adjustments deconstruct past factions but
a drug addict he still was -- actually, that can be somewhat annulled because of dastard and disastrous actions he once practiced


but finding a needle in the greystack of feeble white dust and black tar wouldn't be hard because
trust me, he needn't look far...


and yes, guess what? once again, our friend is
dumbed, dense and doubtlessly doped
but above amends, he'd outwardly hoped
i'll give you a hint: he's on a downward slope


spiraling out of control
holding a viral vial from which he vouched for a toll


one afternoon he had a mad dash for the attic
a bit scuffed up and duffed up he was right back at it.
there he sat aghast for a fraction of an hour, scratching bare gashes, and acting out past happenings


past the mirror he lashed, at a more transparent glass
he slumped, jumped and
dumped his own trashed ass


a blind dive from up high, kind of like the adrenaline rush that comes from driving at night,
minus the headlights


instead of nighly sighing and finding bright sirens striding to his side for a second time,
he collided with the divine...

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