The Dopefiend As A Sensitive Young Artist

” i am what you are”

Bring on, bring on the rallying horses on me!

I’m heading to the level of self-realization where the path is bleak and narrow.

Sadness is a long lost true love evoking poetry.

Be desperate. Have poems.

Reams of written verses made into shape in just one night ——– and lost all of it in the morning after.

Write and f.in write; with drugs you might not remember a thing.

I, who badly needs sleep. I, the bedridden genius.

O, come on thought, rest your restless wings!

To the man, ” serve me and i’ll be your servant”

Death is like a first-hand experience on scoring junk, you don’t know what’s on the other side.

Whitened Tongue, Shimmering Eyes

The user not the substance.

” lowd!, lowd!, lowd! ”

….and still, I just can’t get enough

junksick junkhead junkie fucked up in the head

You’ll never know restlessness, not until the mind shuts down.

Suffer wicked brother.

A dream covered scream.

From clouds to sadness, from dreams to rust.

The man provided a rather long bed for us to stay awake

Dreams are for gods

Fixin to die is all I hear…

Back to hell —— and feeling much better

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