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[ Opinion ] [ Personal Narratives ]

Diary of a Dragon-Chaser

Crack turned all my boogers black, along with all my pores
My nose grew over ten feet long to hide that I’d become a whore

It stole away my conscience as it tore apart my soul
And where I’d thought still beat a heart, I found instead a hole

My teeth all rotted inside-out, darkened gray, and yellowed
Also decayed, all hope and faith – nothing in life remained hallowed

I saw most often naught but the ground, in case I might spy a stray rock
And thought of naught but my next hit whenever my addict sucked cock

My hands were always filthy, searching by feel across the floor
No longer I noticed poor hygiene’s B.O., so often alone behind a locked door

I forgot how to make conversation, excepting in Spanish and street
And rarely felt aught but my joint pain, so little I rested my feet

I learned to say all but what I meant, so I could constantly gauge my next score
All real friends were distant and soon non-existent, as I couldn’t recall what I’d first made them for

Everyone rushed to end my calls, no one would come to my home
My kitties grew thin and insecure, too often they were left to fend on their own

I forgot loans are meant for repaying, I lied to get more than was fair
I went to extensive intricate lengths to ensure I’d never have to put up my share

Desiring nothing more than that glass dick’s oblivion, in its swift wake, I doubted my worth
As everything faded, except for self-hatred, I came to despise the day of my birth

When I mentioned self-harm ideations, no one answered my pleas for kind words
Even when screamed to large silent throngs, my petitions for help always passed through unheard

Or rather, all avoided interaction, any involvement deemed inadvisable
So returning to my ubiquitous playground rejections, I resumed my role as the quintessential undesirable

This list goes on never-ending, be sure I’ll soon add further couplets
So think on this when you’re offered that stem of good and evil:
Please escape right away
Any chance you might say,
“What the hell – might as well – okay, fuck it.”

The moral of this pity-party woeful accounting, is that even so I still hold a small speck of hope
That most will go to the grave, never knowing the craving that comes with that first taste of the white bitch’s dope

But even if she’s already got you imprisoned, and she’s clawed Will and Psyche divided
With all that’s left behind,
let’s pray that the Divine,
will show us the sign,
that says where we’ll find
that the goddamn BOOTSTRAP INSTRUCTION MANUALS
ARE FINALLY FUCKING BEING PROVIDED

But listen a moment still, for there’s more yet to fear! (I **SWEAR** that this’s the last verse!)
When I switched to the tweak they call shards crystal meth, things only managed to get drastically WORSE!