Inked in

if this is an addictionand writingis that road to perditionthenI’m an addict,tricked by the pen way back, whenthe needles only pumped inmore jackand the pipes only blewout more crack,true what they say,that you never getawayand the noose always hangsloose about you…

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Pencils in

Some lines need to be carvedinto the skin,lines like, ‘who let you in’minus the queston mark,thenin the darkeveryone can read them, as long as fingers traceis about as long asthe human racehas been running, one day we’ll run outof space. I’m tattooingyou in,so I won’tforget…

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Passing clouds

This won’t do,sitting here scrolling through,I need to get up out of bed andmake a brew,no, this won’t do at all…

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