In The Crawl Space Of An Addict.

 

In the crawlspace of an addict.-by-MFB III

 

In the wee hours
of the morning
in the crawlspace
of his head
depressed
he sits unmoving
like a dead fly
on an open

windowsill.


Legs propped up
on it's ledge
awaiting the maggots,
the next generation
who'll cop a buzz
and follow in his 
winged flight
to oblivion.

His life is a blur 
He went in fast circles
seeking sustenance
from other
people's pleasures.

 
Attracted to various shit
that poisoned his morals
and then cleansing his self
in a puddle of alcohol.


Detested by most
loved only by those
who sought to fly higher
then the addict he
inhabits

 

 

.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~MFB III

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