Trigger warning: This poem is about drug use.
I throw this needle in the air
And jut out my arms, veins displayed
To see if I stick the landing
Sick of my problems I run
Stick to my guns, cocked and loaded
Russian roulette, I’m popping of
Drawing blanks, drawing with chalk
Like an artist hazy, dazed
Chasing a chance
To lose the pursuer
Lose the luggage
Loose the noose
Only to tighten it more
A life I abhor
So I score, score, score some more
Scores of sores scar my veins
Scar my skin
Skating by, by the skin of my teeth
But my teeth are falling out
One teeth, two teeth
More heat, red streaks
Up and down my high ways byways
An infection closing in
From a needle I thought clean
It was as clean as me
I haven’t shaved
Haven’t showered
Haven’t bathed
In 200 hours
And as my body sours
I scour the floor for more
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