Blood is pumping down
to his toes, but rushing faster
and further to his head.

The room is spinning, his
lungs are burning...he's sure
this is the closest he's ever been to feeling physically dead.

Drugs, *** and another fix:
anything at all to get by. A
fire in his heart, extinguished,
compares not to the tears in his eyes.

Without anyone in the world, he
readies one last hit. He'd rather
clutch onto a syringe that admit
the pain he feels inside.