if i had my way, there’d be heroin in my veins and a flask inside my pocket
i’d blow all the money i didn’t make because just fuck it
i’d sit on the living room floor and i’d draw circles on the dirty walls with my eyes, just like the bugs do in my skin
and i’d smile, and laugh, and talk to them.
And those people who didn’t know why — why i was doing this to myself — would peg me as insane,
unaware at the bugs of whom are my only friends eating at my brain.
And those who did know, they’d shake their heads and shrug their unpunctured arms and refuse to agree
‘eh hes just a heroin addict, what a horrible thing’
but it wouldnt be horrible because i’d be smiling
28th march, 2013
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