nostalgic

in the dimmed yellowish light of my memories
I can smell the stale odor of your rotting addiction
under my small body I feel the shag carpet itching my soft skin
as I stare at the coffee table I see all that was once right and is now wrong
looking at it from a different level has brought anger, hurt, confusion, denial, and now acceptance
I now know what the white powder was
I don't remember the taste, but I can remember putting it in my mouth
I can still taste the cigarette and hear you say here suck on this like daddy...
Yet I would get the most excited when I could drink your beer

seeing you passed out on the sofa with the T.V. blaring in a dark lit house
sudden flashes still illuminate my life as I float through this imprisonment of blurred pictures
I used to wonder, why? But, now, why wonder why. It just is.
my mind has been framed into portions of this creation
now I must swerve through the frames and let the pictures rest 
the pain is the pain and does not need to define me as of today.
however, at times it can be nostalgic
to sit in my pictures and wait