Drugs
There is a certain surrender
To the pain of a sharp needle
Piercing your skin by your own hand
You feel a surge of wanting
Forever waiting for that moment
Of ritual when your mixing is over
Push up and hear the tiny sizzle
Of air burst from the tip with a drop
Colored by your poison
Ending in blood
And a small release in your brain
That asks you, "will it ever be enough?"
Copyright © Frankii Fame | Year Posted 2018
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