those are gone,
those little sparkling blues
in a bag
the green on the ashtray
and the white on the plate


those are gone
now left in between
is this dance with doctors
and the addiction team
with no sign of beating
odds im befuddled
strangling puddles
of my own
and rain is more than I can take

with words like venom
your lies
a destiny of hope
hiding behind
the smoke in your nose
and the pills in your throat