Tracks

You’re there again

Choking on your disease

Black tar tracks and raw red mounds

Pickling your arms

And you’re grinning at everyone

On a tenacious rerun:

“I am doing great.  Things are going so good.”

High on your own ego

High with your pernicious demon

That kills you a little more each time.

And I ache for you. 

I’ll die with you.

Be left standing alone

Hating every single memory you left behind.