And the sea will wash away traces of destitution from the sand…

Junkie

 

So many lonely needles I see, and once you see one, you see them everywhere. I have that problem. I see syringes and needles every day I step out, but none so lonely as this, stabbed into a piece of Styrofoam by the sea side, not yet washed away into the big blue beyond forever more due to the sea weed that blocks it path towards oblivion…oblivion no doubt, like the poor soul who found his own in the prick of a vein, washed away on waves of ecstatic highs lost to whatever ailed him once upon a time just like words written in the sand washed away by the tide, just like this syringe too, shall eventually be.

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