Needle point,needle point so dull and shiny

Beggars cant be choosers so I won't be whiney

I can tell you've seen over a hundred sticks ,but I still choose you to get my fix

Unsure of who's skin you've breeched I'll clean you up with some bleach

With a rig freshly sanitized ,I can finally partake in what Ive fantasized

I find an alley is a nice place to end this mornings chase

I sit beside a trash can and pull out my spoon , eager for the relief that is coming soon

Despite the aches and shakes ,im sure not to make any mistakes

Brown powder is added to a little water

I use a lighter to get it a little hotter

Draw into the syring and get ready to cringe.

Fully expecting more pain,I press your dull point into my vein.

With my illness at Bay it's time to throw you away.

Leaving used needles is horribly wrong so I'll put you in the trash can where you belong.

And just to be sure your not found by any kids

Your coffin is an asprin bottle with a child proof lid.

To other addicts I ask you do this one easy task.

Soul having long departed this vessle,conflicting thoughts I wrestle

Well into rigamortis , should I even report this?

Syringe still hanging from its vein

Noble thoughts I still entertain.

Unsure of how long it will remain

From the state of decay I can tell it's been here over a day

Unsurprised no one has made the call to remove the mess between the dumpster and brick wall

Covering there noses trying to ignore the stench in the air

Turning a blind eye to those who suffocated in the depth of despair

The question of weather I should get involved still unresolved

Trying to deceide if I should join the masses that walked past this.

Half my mind shouts that's someone's son or father

The other half says ,not ours so why bother

I reached into my pocket and retrieved my phone.

I sat at my dealers table waiting for my order to be weighed and labeled.

And while his was in the room with the bags and scales

His wife sat in the chair to my right and started painting her nails

I happend to make an observation of trails in her foundation and suddenly came to a disturbing realization.

I've know this woman only a couple years but it seems here make up is always streaked by tears

She wears sweaters in every season and for whatever reason I've seen her wear sunglasses in the shade

No matter how big a smile she presents I sense she is a afraid

Behaviours that once hade confused I began to understand as clues

Hint to what she endures behind closed doors

Now knowing what she conseales behind tinted lenses and underneath long sleeves

I ask her why she stays . And she reveals she is scared of what will happen if she leaves.

Not another word was spoken ,the long silence eventually broken by the cracking of the bedroom door.

My supplier apologized for the wait Saying he had buisness from before and he gave me a little more

Feeling less naive i pocketed the packages I received and before I walk out the exit. I intentionally meet eyes with his wife