Found some old poetry today, dunging out papers to do my taxes:

I’m powerless in the grip of an old friend

a toothless jagged junkie

come to boil broken flakes of me over a sad flame

in coma, one’s allowed to dream

it’s seventh grade all over again

and its painful and apparent

one step up, two back

I wake to the sound of violent vomiting

I wake to the smell of burning meth amphetamines

I wake to an empty head, & sometimes un-empty bed

I scream and sing and drink into a corner

I mumble and bungle and smoke into bed

and my friend is always with me

always holding my head

craning my neck

twisting my arms

clearing stairs for my decent

thumpity thumpity thump thump thump

power hungry black-hole

powder blue unattainable sky

quick like lightening

sweet like ignorance

desperate like a doorknob

singing in the gallows

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