habit

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Addiction.

Submitted: April 03, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 03, 2008

A A A

A A A


The stem,
the cone,
the slurp,
the drone,
the choke,
the rush,
it's not enough,
a little square,
with a name,
now i'll never,
be the same.
The note,
the straw,
the sniff,
the snort.
The burn,
the taste,
I'm off my face,
the clubs,
the pills,
who says
drugs kills,
the lights,
the doof,
comedown
to a choof.
Not tired,
no sleep.
Not hungry,
no eat.
The drugs
gone lame,
so jab again.
Can't stand no more,
face full of sores.
How long till the end?
These drugs are no friends.


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