Take the long shot they told me.
the voices in my head echoing.
Barely audible and barely presentable,
they convert out of my mind into action.
Addictions now so unmemorable that
I can hardly create the thought of that wooden table.
Chopped at and beaten is the rotted wood from which you scraped
the ashes and paper shavings. Into a empty tray and lost forever,
however, this faint memory never dies. Never fails to be shown.
Like the red hot glimmering remains of a blunt once blown.
Helpless now and worthless now, they tell me.
voices of my peers echoing.
Clearly audible with a gentle slicing.
Cutting past plastic small plastic bags and cheap pricing,
I sell my life away.