our lives

leave me standing alone at night
when all we do is lose our fight
sometimes i wonder when we’ll be right
and realize crack expands our fright

into our flesh wounds we carve
watching our bodies as they starve
we aren’t worth the time to save
when heroin and blood are what we crave

they know that we use ourselves
to hear the ringing of heroin bells
stealing junk to put in our veins
everyday life is for us in vain.

help me. please. help….

Published
Categorized as poetic

By The Dying Euphoria

I may not be the average junk addict, seeing as I still have a few things going for me, but I'm a slave to heroin just the same. I'm a sad sight, no doubt, but that's the way life is, and you can't help it. So whatever you do, don't try and fuck with it. I like it when people e-mail me and reply to my posts, so please, speak your mind to me, if you wish. I have a blood, violence, and self mutilation fetish, so I'll spend a lot of time in the Erotica section, posting and reading. I write poetry, and I'll be posting thousands of poems. So please, check for my name often. If I disappear, well, I probably took my fetish too far...