"tweaker" poems
To the tweaker who just ate lunch
On the side of a 55 mph highway
I'm not staring because I'm judging
I can judge without looking
I'm staring because I want to know
If my eyes can slow down your limbs
Like the arms of a fan
So I can see that you're still somebody's daughter
I'm staring because I understand
Never mind the gawking eyes of midday traffic
Never mind the glares of the gas station clerks
I understand
You're just having lunch
I understand
The bugs, the tics, the needs
You are not a stranger to me
You are who my sister used to be
You are what the father of my niece
Is trying not to be anymore
You are every shady character
Who ever knocked on my door asking questions
I do not know your name
But I know you
I know you were once somebody's daughter
And I hope you still are
I'm not here to pass judgment
Definitely not here to help
I know all to well there is nothing I can do
I just want you to know I know
And so does any body you're trying to hide it from
And they'll be waiting up for you
Whether you come home or not
Your mom hasn't had a full nights sleep
Since the last time she saw you
I hope for her sake
It was this morning
And I know you won't believe this
But grown woman and all
Your dad just wants to bounce you on his knee
But what I know most of all
Is that your little brother
Can't go two hours without crying
He's got ulcers again
And he misses you
You probably see him the most
But he hasn't seen you
Since you took your first hit
He misses your advice
He misses your hazing
And all he wants is a sober hug
And I'm sure this isn't what you wanted to hear
During your picnic
But it's everything I wish I could've told my sister
Even if she wouldn't have listened
I'm not staring to judge
I'm staring to care
And I don't presume to know what addiction is
But I do know how it feels
I just watched you barely cross the street
I can't imagine you making it
Wherever you're going tonight
So if you die
I hope there's **** in heaven
But if you by some miracle don't
I hope rock bottom's not to far down
And that one day you get clean
And start to make amends
So you can remember what it's like to dream
And if that day ever does come
Do me a favor
Sit on your father's lap
Sleep in your mother's bed
And hug your little brother
Because there's a girl he could use some help with
No matter what you've done
Or how much pain you've caused
Through the twitching
The nervous glances
The weight loss
You're still somebody's daughter
I know you
I understand you
Enjoy your lunch
Jan 4, 2010
Jan 4, 2010 at 10:26 AM UTC
iN & Out Of Rehab
iRelapse
Then Collapse
iNever
Commited To Sober Living So Why Are People Tripping?
Drug Programs
Are A Waste According To My Case.
im Never Going to Stop
unless i O.D And Drop
But Even iN Heaven Thats iF iRise.
With the Angel
imma Continue Tweaking Cause iM A ****** Tweaker
Or iN Hell With Fallen Angels.
It'll Be Better,
Since iSold My Soul To The Devil.
He Never Asked
iJust Gave iT Up.
iFell iN Love With A stimulant Drug made up Of Chemicals ****** Poison But idgaf il Keep Dosing.
Went From Snorting To Smoking
Methamphetamine
iLet iT Get The Best Of Me.
Part 2
Out & iN
2014 iTs Krazie
iM Back To This Dope ****
Its been Already 4 years and
Im still Addicted.
In & Out
Of Rehabs, Different Drug Programs and Sad That iStill
Havnt learned ****
Got Out November 19 2014 For The 3rd Time
And im Still Twisting, Getting Lit
Ilove Living Twisted
Im on a comedown
Im irrated right now wanting to take
Another hit.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC
On the south side of kelso if it's there that ya choose to go
Well if its there ya go then ya just gotta know bout a man named tweaker joe
Now tweaker, he's a scrapper and if ya go down on his door
Don't you worry about wakin him up. He aint slept since 74
Well he's weird, weird tweaker joe
The weirdest tweaker in South Kelso
Weirder than a three toed frog
Stranger than a five eared dog
Now tweaker hes a scrapper and he likes his shiny things
And he likes to see what fun he has by the chaos that he brings
He got a custom BMX bike with a flashlight on the grill. He got 32 lb of brass in his pack, he got a dope bag in his shoe.
Well he's weird, weird tweaker joe
The weirdest tweaker in South Kelso
Weirder than a three toed frog
Stranger than s five eared dog
NOW Friday bout a week ago Tweaker scrappin cars. But at the end of the alley sat a cop named Thurman and ooh dat cop looked ******
Well he cast his light upon joe cuz Thurman had a plan
Tweaker joe learned a lesson bout messin with a future Sherriff man
Well he's weird, weird tweaker joe
The weirdest tweaker in South Kelso
Weirder than a three toed frog
Stranger than s five eared dog
Well the 2 men took to runnin and hes dragged down to the jail
Joey looked like a wrung out tweaker with a couple of teeth left
Well he's weird, weird tweaker joe
The weirdest tweaker in South Kelso
Weirder than a three toed frog
Stranger than s five eared dog
Well he's weird, weird tweaker joe
The weirdest tweaker in South Kelso
Weirder than a three toed frog
Stranger than s five eared dog
May 27, 2019
May 27, 2019 at 9:04 AM UTC
A late hour. Don't even look at the clock.
Every fiber of my good sense yells go to
sleep and I do not. Every bit of logic
understands that I need to wake in fewer
hours than I needed to sleep in the first place
Still I sit here
Listening to music.
Writing a poem. Staring idly
at a browser window. The lights are on, the blinds
drawn. When the sun begins to rise, I will not see it
I've seen several sunrises recently
I remember what they look like.
In the midwest somewhere, a tweaker sits
awake for the third day. Chasing vapor and ghosts
He's seen the sunrise too, perhaps an hour later
He may or may not remember
We run from the cousin, but he finds us
The sandman cometh. And
Enter night
and what dreams may come
Locked in the struggle we all lose,
Running from comfort and sanity at full-speed
10.03.11
D.B. Guy
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 2:55 AM UTC
Pretty Girls
Every Where, Beautiful Image
Angel Heart, Brain So Smart
Confident, independent, Successful
Then iTs Stressful
Disappointing, heartbreaking
Seeing
Some of these girls fall into the wrong trail.
Influenced, peers, relatives, boyfriends, homegirls
Got them to inhale
A Substance so strong
They dont seem to see it
The new life lane there on, once they
... continued
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
How to be a great tweaker
1) Go get some drugs
2) Don't take them yet
3) Go get some tweaker friends
4) Go get some snacks and take a shower
5) Put on clean clothes
6) Go to a tweaker friend
7) Give them the drugs
8) Walk over to a light post
9) Give it one dollar
10) Go eat that food
THE END.
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 4:00 PM UTC
**** head, struggling for breath
Final hit, before the red
Light flashes, warning to stop
Over dose, **** the innards
She never chose to lose this
Battle, between herself & it
Where'd she go, lost in space
Chasing herself, a dog with his tail
Praying to an above, to lead her
Straight laced, not swerving off track
Please God save me, her last plea
Before another day dawns, her final wish
Sketcher, tweaker, where's that syringe
The lights too bright, reality a curse
Rolled up in rehab, another ghetto kid
Not this girl, high class, white, moneyed
Lost to the night, speed freak, hopeless
Drowning in addiction, using again
Chemical structures defining her fate
Her brain the game
Disfigured face, unrecognizable eyes
Family love, isn't ever enough
Rushed to ER, another broken soul
Promises that drugs will save her
When only she can ever
Save herself
This time, she's not another life
Lost
The Gods sure blessed her, not with
Her wish
So she's packaged off to rehab
The third times a charm, right?
© Sia Jane
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC
Tweaker Tweaker
Did you eat any dinner
And Have you showered
Tweaker Tweaker
How long have you been awake
When's the last time you had real sleep
Or is everyday maintained
W/ 10mins every half hr.
Tweaker Tweaker
Do the shadows still appear
Are the voices the only thing you hear
Is what you feel inside your skin
Even real or just made up in your head
Tweaker Tweaker
Do you even care
The ones you love miss you so much
Do you even care
You've lost your life before 25
Tweaker Tweaker
Please get better
Reach out for help
Put the needle down
Drop the pipe, hear it shatter
Blow away that line you just crushed up
Tweaker Tweaker
It'll be alright
Your loved ones are still near
They still care
Reach out for help
Don't be scared
Everyone only wants to help
Tweaker Tweaker
When you quit
The devil will shout
It won't be easy , count on that
It will be worth it
You'll get to live
So try your best
Beat past this, you'll get through this
Slowly but surely
You'll make to 100 days sober
Reunite with all your loved ones
Employeed with a growing family
Is what will come
When you decide
It's time to end the Devils game
So
Tweaker no more,
but a lady or gentleman
Good for you
You've come far
Keep your mind positive
I'm proud of your sobriety
Congratulations
You're living
& now you see why
Sobriety was always worth it
Tweaker no more
Lady or gentleman
How was the meal you just had
Was the shower the best you've had ?
Did you finally get some sleep
Were you able to escape
the shadows and voices from in your head
Tweaker no more
Just admit
This is the best you've felt
Since your first time trying crystal
You feel human finally
There's no going back
To tweaker island
You won't make it out
The second time around
So hide your very best
Keep yourself busy
And talk out loud
When you feel like
you Might relapse back
into tweakers land.
With no chance to survive another night
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 5:49 AM UTC
Left my soul in the trippin spoon. Gave it a shot now I think I'm through. Now watch me ride on and see it through. Until we meet again. A chicken crows in the dead of night. Another tweaker, been up all night. In the dark chasing dragonflies. Now its time for the morning light. So welcome home. The phone rings but I don"t pay the bill. I probably spent it on a ****** pill. But he still can't find a thrill. Where did the mortal go. Back to the trippin spoon.
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 10:17 PM UTC
I ate a whole bag of
cheetos one at a time,
savoring each cheesy bite,
and watched two seasons of
South Park as my friend tried to
hit a vein.
**** man. I got little ones, they keep rolling.*
It took her hours.
Forearm
Shins
Wrists
Other arm
Calfs
"What the **** man, why even ******* bother? Why not just smoke it like everyone else?"
******* tweakers*
She says the high is worth it.
*That rush, man. Holy ****
But really,
no matter how ****
they are,
or used to be,
nobody likes
a spun out
tweaker *****
Nobody
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 6:36 PM UTC
Go back to your violent grace
Your elegant waste
Your newspaper paste
Trained tweaker taste
It’s all good
It’s all legal after all
But the future is moving
Too slow at a rapid pace
When the rabid ones
Are not free to die
An every electrical device
Unmoving, ruins your life
Soon the candles won’t burn fire
And the night will tame all desire
Slave to light sockets
Which were paid for from your pocket
You’re walking on a street of waves
An even dead trees somehow misbehave
When on every corner, inside them all
There’s the dearest, faintest, little hum
Yeah, there’s always an end to this
But knowing them they’ll ruin it
Do a down periscope on your soul
Is there anywhere left to go
That’s not gridlocked or sold
Well, now I really know
The worst is yet to come
Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 8:35 PM UTC
I’m a steam rollin street sweeper,
Bomb droppin heat seeker,
Warrior and peacekeeper,
Geek tweaker huffin ether.
I’m the sage, and the seeker,
I’m the audience, and speaker,
I’m the follower, and leader,
As I’m both, I’m also neither.
I’m a genius, I’m an idiot,
An erudite illiterate,
I’m about as insignificant
As I am magnificent
The hero, and the villain
Nervous wreck while I’m chillin
I’m the men, I’m the women
Spittin' facts while I’m pretendin'
I am more, I am less,
I invest, I divest,
As I focus, I digress
I am cursed, I am blessed
Serious, as I jest
Hyperactive, while at rest
I’m the worst, I’m the best
I’m the grade, I’m the test
I’m the train, I’m the tracks,
The uncharted, and the map,
I’m the boot, I’m the strap,
I’m the hand, I’m the clap
I’m the black, I’m the white,
I’m the day, I’m the night,
I am everything and nothing
I am wrong, I am right.
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 4:34 AM UTC
TELL TELL TELL
Me about the hell of sin
While I can
SMELL SMELL SMELL
The love-stink of your next of kin
I'll
BURN BURN BURN
My blood is made of gin
It drips down
Sticks to
Stains your chin
Lascivious and lurid is your predator grin
When with vicious curling rictus
You inflict this, you begin
DECIEVER ****** LEADER
My devout Sunday morning tweaker
Set us up in rows of pews
We sit and listen, you spout and spew
Don't presume us to be in virtue weaker
Than you, my fire and brimstone preacher.
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 11:05 AM UTC
Look at him twitching
You know he's tweaking
His jaw swinging back and forth
But there's no speaking
See's something down
In the carpet twinkling
He gets all excited
You know what he's thinking
Anything he finds
He's going to be smoking
I wouldn't be laughing
Because he ain't joking
Down there for hours
Refusing to fail
Doesn't even slow down
After smoking toenail
Smokes up almost
All that he finds
He hears a noise
Now he's peeking through the blinds
He's been smoking too long
And he's up all night
Doesn't have a job
But that's alright
He's finds a dumpster
And without any warning
He's dives in searching
Til the early morning
That's just the life
Of a tweaker you see
Always out hustling
To get his **** for free
If you see him at night
Approach with caution
He's got a stink about him
Because ain't been washing
Picking at his face
Til his sores are bleeding
A light and a mirror
Is all he's needing
He finally got busted
Now he's on parole
Has to hide his drugs
Up in his ********
It's a shame, but that's the way
A tweaker gets by in the world today
His family don't want him
And he don't have many friends
His life is cut short
And that's how it ends
Everybody knows him
But no one knows his name
They just refer to him
As "That dope smoking Lame"
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 2:42 PM UTC
I am the crow
which rolls walnuts from your roof
I wear the morning star as my crown
I haven't had a proper shower since last month
and I don't care.
diaries from a tweaker living in her Lincoln Towncar.
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
quips scrawled on scraps of paper, written
during a come-down stupor. something
she wrote, and then proceeded to destroy.
(i gathered all the pieces but have become
too lazy to care how she upset herself)
drawings drawn in between sentences,
in between words. in between syllables. drawn
to obviate thought, to put me somewhere
between Zen and poser. (the drugs obviate titles,
but i’d hedge my bets on the latter)
the remains of the Urban Squirrel Hunter –
a mythology of the Grey Fox –
shredded in the maw of a blue heeler-mutt.
written while ****** drunk, and heat-stroked.
poetry of a homeless kid.
ramblings of an alcoholic, ravings of a tweaker,
with commentary by the one who is just visiting –
self-destruction is all we can ever be certain of.
religion created in a notebook while
doing research on a chemical. figured out what
near-death means, found life by dumb luck.
found life via pocket valiums,
gave up religion while sweating in the snow.
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 10:41 PM UTC
the soul of Mother Nature
I am a natural born hater
I seek justice and freedom
a life of no illusions
and
no cops to harass me.
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 6:10 PM UTC
If materials are your life then you’ll spend it all on your own
Share it all, give it back, make a tree grow
So what you can’t afford college,
There are children that can’t afford dinner
Don’t pick up the pennies you drop,
Walk right by every homeless man
Saying “he probably just wants another pack of smokes, or a case of beer. what a ******* tweaker”
Never gave the thought that he was **** out of luck
Maybe in highschool his mother died and he started to **** up
But when it comes to you yeah, that’s what it’s all about
Buy the latest purse and the coolest shoes have a snazzy car And fresh tattoo
You might be a doctor but you barely passed
Now a days all you have to do is show up to pass
And if it doesn’t work just shake your ***
Claimed to be a feminist
But you sure gave head
Made a **** good secretary,
and at the end of the day the boss was making your bed.
Paying your bills
Buying your meals
Apr 15, 2012
Apr 15, 2012 at 4:17 PM UTC
Anybody etches the longwave, tadpole lyrical,
and its a poem (woa- teakettle, tweaker)
Satellite poem, thunder poem, ******** poem.
Sevens sluttiest angel writes a eulogy so beautiful that we give her the title of funeral director.
We just give it away. (Its still only a eulogy)
I have ten toes and ten fingers. Ive counted on them. I wrote a poem about getting
a bikini wax, and its still only a poem. A joke. Only tadpole lyrical. I wish it had a
revolutionary hermit to choke it with fingers that taste like black pepper and motor oil,
and then to rake its fall crumbles into ruffles,
and then all aboard the sci-fi fantasy. /Radiant,
radio the masses, raffia slipping, I got the zipper of my winter coat stuck in orbit, you sea/Ive got a poem to
write about synthetic jungles deep underneath our cities, lush with fiber-optic
wire, you say. Air rich, the mountain.
Find yourselves in dungenous traps: dead-blue thou art.
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 8:38 AM UTC
They call him "Tweaker"
Those in the neighborhood of Spring Mountain
and Desert Inn, those who pace
the same streets and sleep in the same block.
He's ironic and contradictory,
calling everyone he happens
by "Slim"
his emasciated smile
black potholes and pyrite
is as genuine as his intentions
shaming traffic with his sadness
cardboard paper signs
"Just trying to get something to eat"
There should be a question mark
My exclamation point
No excuse not to give...
So here you are "slim" collecting the guilt
All the dollars a day in your concrete quilt
and your own red Target
shopping cart...
Caught red handed behind 7-11
In the alley (cats avoid)
with a dub, a dime, or nickle sac
god smacked...
carrying conversations
With / a / no one...
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 2:54 PM UTC
Thinking back to Thomas creek and sneaking a peak at the freaky little tweaker
in blown out sneakers a toothless mistress second guessing ******
thrift dressed house guest ******* up my speakers blown out woofer
wolfing down dinner mad slurping curry a beginner at twister
her sister, disaster, got caught ******* the Doberman.. unable to find sobriety
got gang ***** at the sorority doing an impression of Brad Dougherty
shoes to tall falling all wobbly knees knocking hostilely like a rasta in Montgomery
racially outcast Big Boi with a skin tare lash with passion unfashionable bastions
with rashes wear red sashes like Communist fascists I‘m a pacifist with a speeding fist
ready to dis any resistor to this transistor radio I eat filet-minion with boxers on
my mind be gone, like, no one’s home and this body roams all alone
with a ***** I’m a stoner, a postponer, ***** donor, out on loan
bought and paid for, caught with a lawnmower, impersonating a horn blower
like I was Gillespie at the Filmore, or Apollo theatre as a greater Walmart style
wearing a wife beater, not a reader, sort of a ******* not like Kim, more like
a mosquit-er drinking blood like it’s from a hummingbird feeder.
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 6:03 PM UTC
I remember
When a the word relapse
had A meaning .
When I’d Explain what it
Meant so you can be aware.
Told you what tempts me
What are some triggers.
I Expected You to
View it as a 911 call.
To help me when I’d fall.
You never payed mind
To the importance of it.
Just like you Didn’t think
Telling you I had an addiction Was something that bad.
I remember when
You Made your own definitions
To all the words I’d tell you.
I’m the one struggling
But you always made yourself the victim when it was me who needed attention, apologize, comfort & to support me.
Temptation & triggers
Have no meaning.
You never cared to look after me.
It wasn’t something you’d have to be 24/7 about.
You never questioned your negative actions & how that’ll provoke me.
You never cared until
A Relapse
Meant I Used because
I wanted to get high.
Finally You show importance.
Not in the way where your concerned if I’m ok & hoping that hit didn’t cause harm.
Concerned to where you stood by my side & talked on why it happened & what can we do to prevent it again.
instead , a relapse means
Talking **** to me , making me feel bad , blaming me, making yourself feel like I betrayed you
Feeling so angry saying I don’t love you & love that more.
You abandon me & go m.i.a
When you were the cause of why i couldn’t handle feeling hurt etc
I remember when
Relapsing made me feel guilty & so bad because I failed you & disappointed you.
I remember When
I’d tell you I’ll never be honest on my sobriety , confess or hand over paraphinillia .
For me to do the opposite of what I swore I’ll never do.
All because it killed me to lie & hurt me to see you stress your mind on doubts if I’m clean or not.
All For what ?
For you To talk **** to me when I confess about relapsing, for you to call me drug addict & insult me calling me Druggie tweaker etc
When I’d Hand you things
Etc
Me Being honest to you & open with my recovery only
Damaged me more.
What I gained wasn’t support.
It was money being thrown at my face telling me to go get high.
Calling me drug addict in many insult full ways.
You made a joke out of
my struggles.
You’ve never been there for me.
How far the meaning & value of relapse once meant.
A relapse now means nothing to me when it comes to you.
Being true to you
Only back fired.
You use it as leverage
To insult me more & have negative things to reply.
“I wouldn’t know, you kept
it from me before” etc
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 1:38 PM UTC
Sitting along the curb
Sun shining bright
I await for my drug delivery
Wondering why
It's taking so long
Oh right
They're on Tweaker time
Texting my guy
Asking how much longer
I'll have to wait
The sun is bright
It's heat getting to me
Thinking to myself
Ill be late to work
***** getting ready
I'll pack a bowl
Light it up
Only 2 hits
Then I better get ready
Phone buzzes
My guy explains
He's sent another
To do this deliver
I don't ask why
Or who it is
Just for him to get to me soon
Pace back and forth
Along the curb
Stressing
I'll be late to work
Why's this guy taking so long
I hear the car
Look up fron the ground
Finally this dude has arrived
But to my suprise
It's you inside
Frozen
Thinking is it really you
Unsure
How could this be
It's been a month since I last saw you
I question why
You're the delivery guy
Call you an ***
For not hitting me back up
I ask for the dope
Give you the money
Step out the car
Not saying a word
My hearts filled of hurt
I rush back inside
Text my guy why
He replies why it's a problem
I explain
We spoke about the situation
That delivery guy
He's not just anyone
I didn't want him to know
I've been using dope
Plus he's the reason why
I do more than I can handle
To void the memories
To void the thoughts
Of everything we once were
It's not fair at all
One month passed by
No replies from you
But Instead
I see you
To my suprise
As the new delivery guy
Of this dope
I don't want it anymore
But I must not cry
And must not think
Pack a quick bowl
Light the flame
Watch the smoke fill
Inhaling and twirling
Exhale, cool
What was it that made me so sad ?
Smile curl
Phone buzzing
Let's go to work
Rush everything
I'm ready to pretend
Like nothings ever wrong
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 5:03 AM UTC
Piercing sunlight shining through a window,
Ephemeral blades stabbing into me,
Pinning me in place.
That’s what she was.
Absolutely radiant, illuminating with her presence alone.
Rising right with the sun, morning coffee as white as her bed sheets.
Gleaming teeth exposed as she laughs, sweet and fleeting as cotton candy.
Floral sundresses and large hats a staple of hers, forever in a perpetual summer.
Mimosas sipped with a beachside breakfast, the only drink she’ll ever imbibe.
Spending her tropical jaunts seaside, buried in her Nicholas Sparks novel.
Pure, gorgeous, vibrant, carefree, glowing, flawless.
She’s daylight.
But I’m moonlight.
Beams twisted and reflected by the water in closed bays on lonely beaches.
In the 24-hour diners with a woman perpetually smoking a cigarette at the register,
a tweaker passed out in a booth, holding his partners hand.
Under the pervasive neon lights of dying bars,
bearing witness to the drunkards mourning love and liquor lost,
Through forlorn streets, under dimly sparkling lights,
bundled in beaten and weathered coats, just barely safe from the chill.
Drinking wine by the bottom shelf bottle to cloud future-bound thoughts,
feelings spilling out in ink or wine, impossible to tell through the stupor.
Maybe it is true that opposites attract,
maybe that’s the reason
I can’t get away from her.
But maybe it’s hopeless,
maybe I’m the moon,
doomed
to forever chasing the sun across the sky.
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 4:47 PM UTC
It says something about myself
that I see death in dawn rather than a sunset.
That the emergence of life and light means a finality.
That the stilling of the world and its residences is a new beginning.
Is it that I see myself as a predator?
Emerging at night to stalk the metaphorical woods of humanity.
Maybe it’s more simple than that.
On the lonely beaches,
illuminated by the twisted reflection of the moon on the water,
in the 24-hour diners
with a woman perpetually smoking a cigarette at the register
and a tweaker passed out in a booth, holding his partners hand,
under the pervasive neon lights of dying bars,
bearing witness to the drunkards mourning love and liquor lost,
through forlorn streets, under dimly sparkling lights,
maybe that’s where I find myself at home.
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 1:21 PM UTC