this is the scene

i traded you for the bottle, course it was easy i didn't have to think a lot or too much, just enough. four dollar bottle of wine (six pack red dog, st. ides where are you?) smile not half as good as you but easier to think about.

but where's your shine, now? where's your soft look not divided by collonapin stare handouts methadone madness, junkies across from you sitting barelegged on a chair talking about "triggers" and dreaming of lonely needles they could take home and adore.

i think now, you traded me for the pipe (numbness, anyway) and glowing like a hash mountain fire surrendered to by too many dxm nights.

good luck, longevity, the intesisty flares too much and no one no nothing bickers candlelight like you.

2003-04-03 | 12:29 p.m.
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