There's something dead in the junkie's soul,
some fargone old as love death
occured, long ago.
The tough as nails anemic
anorexichusk
it hides oil smoke and hatred
he appears
forcibly pacified,
the world to hell for that fix,
we may say forgive,
he says "shit forgive
they done me wrong"
And he pushes.
further to blight
further to illness
he pushes to ailment,
ails, dies ailing
unforgiven and unforgiving
lays gently and burns out too fast