Fuck

Is this the same withdrawal, the panging surrender

I once watched, innocently in a film?

is this the way it feels, the way it bites, and itches

at every ounce of bliss you've achieved in vein,

in veins. it seems the highs

all melt into one pot of greed, frying nothing except

all you've known as an addict,

which is all you have.

people are not people, places- not destinations

moments are not memorable, anymore, no

nothing more than heated cobblestone, no-

stones armoured with shards of glass

i must walk over, earnestly to the next, to the next

broken feet, bloody toes, cracked

toenails. And everyone watches, eyes open

scared that you may fall off the wire, offering no hand

but a silver dollar to watch your trials, the fruits you'll never see

We hope you make it out alive, you'll thank us, cough drop claps

billow in and out of the parade, a rainy walk

toward gruesome ends