Addict

Addict

I’m thin don’t look like my photos

of me with my family at Christmas.

The pan on the stove is all mouldy,

My bed sheets are filthy and golden.

The bath is dusty and dirty,

with old rusty needles and the tea leaves.

The mirror is cracked in the middle,

from a head butt when there was some trouble.

The dealer will just have no mercy,

if I tell him I can’t pay his money.

His heavies will punch, stab and kick me.

They waft away in a limo, and

flash clothes, with houses to match them.

The twitching curtains all see them,

They think its respect but they hate them

for what they have done to their children.

I’m really not much of a burglar,

I’m noisy and clumsy not stealthy.

I have to do it to pay for,

 the stuff that I pump up inside me.

The pride that I had has been trodden,

into the dust with each bagful.

My clothes are all ragged and smelly

you kids take note and look at me.

Just listen to mum and stay drug free.

I’ve sold everything that I worked for.

I robbed everything off those that I cared for.

Chances galore that they gave me,

They hoped that the last one might save me, from

 a cold death on some city pavement.

It’s not that I’m sneaky, ungrateful,

I can’t get away from this circle,

of crime, buying junk by the bagful.

Will somebody help me I’m desperate?

Kevin Humphreys.

15.09.2010