Memorized Tracks.

This is a path you've traveled before
Every rail-tie you see is a different source
of comfort for
every lie you've told yourself.

The puddles beneath your mud-covered feet
cry out the reflections of those whose
footsteps you're following.
you hide within flickering shadows,
failing to see your abstract,
dying body through
whiskey-induced comas.

Tar c/u/t/s open wounds you didn't know you had.

Cigarette smoke only gets you so far
with the cool kids-
those other greasy-haired wannabe’s
who thrive on dumpster dinners.

They’ve had more experience,
and ‘it will be okay’
Strap on leather you can't undo yourself, and
impress them with a blunder of the flesh.
Just once, twice, three more than that [& you're out!]
(this time you forgot the glove, love)
and you squirm with the foul-mouthed tension
that an unskilled partner
creates
with every red heel pressed into his
[or her]
perfectly ugly ass.

& this is what you do to
s.u.r.v.i.v.e.

but even your fingernails

    neath his knees
under

call you a whore.

You’ve run away again, not for the lack of love-
[you had a surplus of that, my dear]
but because you tagged along with the rest of them.

Scapegoat it on your parents:
They ranted, screamed and
abused this upon you.
Inhale upon fumes of your
-former- life
Lost within memories of imagined hurt
and heart^b^r^e^a^k that never happened.

It's their fault that
now you’re
locked in a pinprick of fantasy
that dream only a needle can bring
shooting up butterflies
and melting candle wax.

It's poetic, in a way
how you never seem to die
in a place where only either
death or delusion can bring you

h
  i
  g
    h
    e
      r

towards the runaway/razor/reality low you've
been
hoping
for.