The sick pale wrap that bandages
my tired muscles and damaged bones
warms to the approaching stab
The loaded syringe knocks at the door
of a friendly blue line
the vein and needle embrace like lovers reunited
Heavy, my thumb pumps the poison
into my desperate body
Warm kisses, like lost butterflies
swarm my inner mind
An anchor secured and a smile raised
I seek more, demand contentment
and reload the awaiting glass knife
The wound will scar me like never before
and leave a heavy weight
on my numb skull
A weight, the tear sodden mourners
call a headstone
Chiseled dates and a full name my ghost
can forever admire, does not stop thoughts of a further fix...
© Copyright 2016 Philip H20s. All rights reserved.
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