I would be a heroin addict if it ran though my veins
Lifting my feverish thoughts feeding into my brains
Feeling my body numb before euphoria ignites me
I would need my depression elevated as a guarantee
Sifting back into my darkness I speed in and out
The waste of person of body I would be without
If it weren't for the needles entangled in my heart
My addiction I cannot live with or apart
Instincts are my only survival weapon in my search
Pocket change accumulates rather; jack up a church
Irritated, agitated, plainly about to kill feeling sick
My sixty dollars hard earned goes a long way quick
Straight to the head numbing once again
My thoughts are flying that I must sustain
Another and another before my arrest
Not the cops but the beating in my chest
Bleeding out my fictional fantasy of pain I walk
Animating the rain in the blackest blues to lock
The twisted path with all traps leading back to beginning
Fate left in fantasy for now; time unbalances the spinning
My eyelids flip opened; nothing, white
Angles from above adorn the light
Feeling the most alive ever in my life
Sirens blear; defibrillating death tonight
This piece of poetry was extremely influential maybe to my use or my fear for that happening to myself. This was written years before heroin took hold. Haven't looked back at the stuff and should never even been considered.
