Marcus Jones Poet I do not know?

Infection

I was a junky once...
Shooting up is like a disease you have control over,
but can't stop fueling
You get higher and higher and you always fall twice as hard
You can feel pieces of your mind, body, and soul floating away into the sea of 
addiction
With every shot you lose a little more hope
Every empty needle is another broken dream
In the beginning you see it as being crazy and obscure,
just like anyone else judging from the outside
It's amazing how quickly it becomes a familiar and normal part of your lifestyle
It's a part of you, just as important as breathing, 
if not more
Even if you do get out alive,
everything inside of you is dead
You slowly start to resume the routines of your life before the sickness,
but it can never be the same
It haunts you in your dreams
It laughs at you in your nightmares
It call for you when you least expect it
And your veins cry back for it like an infant to its mother,
begging you to take the pain away
Time will go by
You'll feel close to human again
But the random shakes and aches will always remind you of the demoralizing 
underworld you were once a part of...
...and in some ways, 
you'll always be a part of.

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