A Request to a Heroin Addict who doesn’t give a F**k

So, I’m all for anyone struggling in recovery; however, I do get bugged with the addict who doesn’t care about who or what he hurts. I pray that God touches all of those who have no interest in getting sober, but I am human and sometimes need to express my own anger. I wrote this poem as a way to dispel that anger, even if in a small way…

 A Request for a Heroin Addict Who doesn’t give a F**k

I can smell the rotting meat

Where needles poke

And demons roam

The stench hits me like

The wails of souls

Who pray to escape Satan’s hold…

But odor and tears

Aint got shit for you…

Your fix is gold

Your fix is God

your fix is a mix

of Heaven and Hell –

apocalypse propped with

salvation’s sticks

but there ain’t no difference

between your fix

and swallowing a thirty ought six

So I request that you write your obit

And ask your momma not to cry

And tell your baby you have no lullaby

And spare me the stench

Of your decaying flesh…..

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