Sul Serio

by Poetry

I had a friend
               who used to inject
ink straight
into his arteries
                              black tracks
               running up his arms;

                              dead now,
               of course – no one lives like that;
                              barely call it living

black ink
               I remember – always
black ink

                              i asked him about it
               once when he was high & I was drunk
               he studied the barmaid for a while
watched her jeans & shoulders
                              & said

                                                            I just want
                                                            to be taken

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The Moth

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light curving
a perfect body; had crawled
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