Dishevelled and alone sits an unkempt man,
staring morosely at the peeling paint upon
the crumbling,bare walls.
He stares longingly at the glistening needle
lying on the old,one legged coffee table,
silently wondering if he can
resist it's persistent call.
Forlornly he recalls the fiery pleasure
of that sparkling amber liquid
coursing through his shrivelled veins.
Quietly he reaches out to lovingly fondle
the cold needle and lets out a long,somber breath.
He begins to tap the needle gently,
and watches the cool amber liquid make tiny waves
in it's glass prison then closes his dirty brown eyes.
Quickly he rolls up his ragged red sleeve and wraps
the wide rubber band around his tiny bicep,
and clenches his bony fist in agitated anticipation.
With a trembling,unsure hand he quickly jabs the needle
into his only good vein and lies back on the ugly,green
ripped up couch.
He closes his beady bloodshot eyes enjoying the
powerful rush of sweet relief in that fiery amber liquid
coursing through his quivering body.
Slowly he opens his sad brown eyes,
and begins to weep uncontrollably,
as he realizes that once again he has failed miserably.
Donavon Scott Vinson