[ 12. 22 ]
i'm not a prescription,
i'm no good for anyone
at all, though
you still have me
running through your veins,
i see.
shoot me up, why don't you
smoke me up, won't you, baby
let me live inside you more
and be the cause of your fall.
put me down, pick me up,
you don't know what to do
and my needle, my buds are
drawing you
and you can't ignore me
nor the way i make you feel.
this is a true, tragic story
that ends with an
unexpected twist -
one with the drug
addicted to
her addict.
YOU ARE READING
past oblivion.
Poetry"what can i really say?" used to be my words, when i didn't know as much. when i got older, i responded to myself. "everything." now, i realize that i can use my breath to speak on everything in existence, from dust on jupiter to the depths of hell...
