I know I have A ProblemA Poem by Rosalind Gale
I worship this high.
I need pills, sweetheart, To blink white, brown, tears on my powdery face. Love to wake with junkie Girls - Love their dirty ways and needles For eyes. The smell of dead sex- Filled air lurks and smothers My dilated heart. The bleak mirror Claws forth a cracked corpse, pulsing, Mutated. Soaked - I wake up rigid and lonely. There are no more days left - So I thank my pusher. I live and die once more. © 2014 Rosalind GaleFeatured Review
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Added on August 28, 2012Last Updated on July 6, 2014 |

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