I push the needle through the cloud and hit rock bottom
pull back on the plunger and inhale the fumes wondering
how pure this streak is when I push my thoughts together
saying "how long does it take to form a habit" one day you
wake up in the bathtub with a lighter in one hand the other
hand turning into a tree putting down roots into the porcelain
and coughing up blood trying to talk to your lungs but failing
and missing the vein, I'll try again this time staining the syringe
with type A and push down on the plunger to chase my own
shadow away down the alley

Where it wonders if I talk in my sleep