I don't make light of the darkness
i lived within all those weeks?, months?,
years?, spent in a run down home with
windows covered in garbage bag curtains

mornings spent drinking three dollar wine
by the bottle till the bottle was to heavy
or my need to much

calling in the big help, the needle man
would needle me and i'd see her again

only she was not her, she was someone else
each time
sometimes
she wasn't even a she, maybe it was a he
or a they, or a them

whatever they were,
he or she or they were my hero
in-between the ******
and the wine