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Marco Feb 12
a tourist in your own youth-
Was it worth it?
she would be a woman by now
he had the potential to-

lie back and enjoy it
shooting through your veins
no love, no hope, no feelings
there’s nothing left inside you
cold, white as a sheet,
sweating,
cold-
heartless

erratic-
am i acting erratic? Who the **** are you
to tell me i’m erratic?
have you seen yourself?
blown pupils, speed-cracked face,
smiling mouth lined with E
the spots on your forearms tell me you don’t have your act together
but the lines around your eyes dance as if you were happy,
happy to rot away at the bottom of a bottomless pit,
happy to steal and score and steal and score and **** yourself slowly
have you eaten yet? Do you still eat? When’s the last time you slept?

i remember every day as if it were my last,
i remember us in the park, i remember us
in the streets, begging for change,
begging for anything
what did we have back then? Not even each other
first there’s an opportunity, then there is betrayal
who betrayed who first?
does it matter or are you just hurt because you didn’t get your fix out of fit
not soon enough-

am i heartless?
maybe so, but what does that make you?
have you ever cared about anyone but yourself-
have you ever cared about me?
me, me , me, like a film on loop in your head
no drugs can ever quiet it down

a tourist in my own youth, yeah, sure,
but she could have been a woman,
she could have had kids of her own,
she could have -
where were you when i left?
did you sit and cry to yourself because it wasn’t
about your for once? Or was it about you but this time
you didn’t want it?

are you as alone as i am?
I know you are.
the warmth in your veins has long been replaced by-
charlie took care of you

do you want to,
for the sake of old times, like,
do you want to-
let’s revive our hero one more time
let him infuse us with apathy
let him surge through our bodies
let us share-

my blood runs in your veins.
This is about T2 -Trainspotting, and it's Mark addressing Simon. The books and movies had a big impact on me.
I put the spike
in and push it a
little; withdraw, and there
it is.
That beautiful
rose bloom flash.
Push the plunger
and I 'm back in Eden.
Naked and no shame.
And in that moment
it's better than
*** and God and Heaven,
and chocolate.
I'm lost in a
storybook blue
sky, and I don't want
to be found.
Nothing matters, but the
sublime substance pumping
through my
veins that make me
immortal.
Icarus flying into
the sun until my
wings melt and I
fall back to earth
and do it all again.
"All that glitters isn't gold"
Somehow, I get myself in these situations,
Where all of my efforts can end in stagnation,
But sometimes I manage to find inspiration,
In my concentration and intoxication,

I've had so much beer i should be in my bed,
But there's too much to think of,
It's all in my head.
There's ideas and there's music,  there's joy and there's death,
And there's realization that there's nothing left.

See tonight I got word that it's working for me,
My whole life is decided,  I know what I'll be.
I'll write and I'll speak,  I'll get high and I'll teach,
And I'll be grateful for every mind that I reach.

But I'll always remember the path I once took,
Before novels and poems and college and books,
I'll remember the streets in December,  '09,
When I hustled for China and needles and wine,
When I first learned this world had two sides to its face,
There's the side that you see, then there's one other place.
And it's dark and it's *****,  but sometimes,  it's kind.
It can give you that shelter you've been trying to find.

But now after living in both of these worlds,
It honestly hurts me to have to decide.
Because one path will lead to respect in their eyes,
And the other will grant me that sweet peace of mind.
I lived in two worlds. I have no regrets.
Anna Himes Oct 2019
Look, my face, in there the misery lies
A hit, a peck, to your neck, I’ll stab you
Past the doldrums of the eyes, stab the thighs
Stab me, stab you, we are part of a crew

Who is to blame for this which we suffer?
Choice or illness: is this my habitus?
Who is to ask, is she a good mother?
Filth, grime, slime, a dime, but I am righteous

Don’t want to go to jail, got to get well
Reach out for help, and they put me there. Hell!
Is it my fault; am I even my own?
Come to the Hole, show you the seed we’ve sewn

Look, my face, in there the misery lies
Look, my face, in there the human soul sighs
inspired by "Righteous Dopefiends", a photoethnography centered around a community of ****** addicts
Martin Narrod Oct 2019
Justin I forgive you, won’t you call me, your birthday must be coming soon we haven’t spoken since we moved our family into the desert. I just pray you’re not seeking cotton fever yet again, chasing the dragon, or at the very least eating school buses while falling into ‘H’ before you find yourself in bed drunk again, and on Ambien too. Dead too soon. You’ve always wondered why I didn’t introduce you to Ryan, my other incredibly dear and brotherly friend. Well wonder none more, he’s in a padded room at Mt. Sinai in Lakeview or perhaps Northwestern’s adult care unit, there was talk or at least I imagined he could make it to Lakeside Manor right there East of Foster. So it’s clemency, peace of mind, and something to loosen the edge off your back, something to let you fall, something to set your pain at weightless your mind at I-Don’t-Have-To-Give-A-****-Anymore, my friend where have you been? Where have you taken yourself? Please drag yourself back at least a half-step, reverse your position and engineer an out please. I can’t begin to accept losing both of my brothers to two versions of the same disease.
Aniseed Sep 2019
Wrestling with this hourglass
Trying to bring back
All the times that we fought
And all the times I lost
With you

There's a lifetime of moments
We still had to share
But the dust of your bones
Settled before the dust
In your veins had a chance

These days I've lost all sense
Of what's worth it

I haven't listened to music
In a month.

I've never known a darkness like hers.
Not really.


You went in a hail storm
And I don't know if that's poetic
Or just the crescendo of what
Your life led up to.

You always were chaos incarnate.

A gun with a hairline trigger.

The only blank left in the barrel
Is the one taking space in my head
Since you left.
I never knew how many facets
There were to grief.
I don't think they make numbers that
Big.

There's a pinprick of nothingness
In the world
And most people pass it by-
But some eyes, they haven't
Let it out of their sight.

I have grey hairs you'll never see.

She told me it was nothingness.

The anger on my tongue died later
Than you,
But so help me,
Give me one more day to relive it
And maybe I won't feel so empty.

Just one more.

Please.
My younger sister passed away from a ******/fentanyl overdose some months back. This is a collection of thoughts that also I threw lines in from an old poem also about her.

I'm not over it.
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