Oct 07, 2003 13:30
he got sick before the night grew old. the sky just shouted. in the confusion the tinest sign waited, faded, returned. nobody is close enough to see. i stoop down to examine this dead fly, a piece of silver that caught my eye. i think i am the only one who sees.
i walk away, and turn back to see another body bend close to the spot i just left.
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youre not a junkie, you just like to shoot dope.
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