He flicks away the last of his cigarette – ash everywhere you can simply imagine
A can of beloved Granary ’69 at hand
Below the couch, above the roasting hot radiator, a downtrodden place drenched in utter hopelessness
A living tragedy quite unbeknownst to his own, prone to equally derogatory bouts of haphazard unawareness
This particular man never planned to fall so far, a dreaded needle awaiting his saddened everything right back where the trackmarks seem to make a whole lot more sense – quench that momentary addiction, add to the outright dereliction, why don’t you?
Few would begrudge you this God awful thing which swims and courses rather nastily on through you – sedated by a fate best left forgotten
You’re a shadow of your former glorious self, had to delve and steal like an imbecilic thief, still relatively pretty yet now appearing to be all kinds of downright ridiculous
These times are trying, and we’ve a fair feeling that you’ve been prying a little more dangerously of late into this – your very own homegrown hellhole
You’re the undoubted and floundering dope, this peculiar and altogether sizzling ‘something special’ your rather regrettably enticing rope
Please attempt to ask them one last question though, why won’t they do you a mammoth, life-affirming, -saving favour and perhaps so much as take it entirely upon themselves to finally leave you the fuck alone!?

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