Painted in stucco, your spinals protrusions hold messages if tapped.
You're smuggling secrets within the dashboard, swearing that you'll take
the rap.
You got a baby coming,
proclaiming you'll stay clean,
but I know you're lying to me.
Musky aroma, I could smell you from space and you think your Dad doesn't know.
I wonder if the smoke smells as good as the shit you snort up your nose.
I'm dying slowly. You're dying on time.
For less than a dime.
When I ask you where you have been
you just reply, "Getting fucked up" again.
I know what you'll say, but I think this is more than just a phase.
Your recollections are dream-like at best: a mystery of what, why, how and when.
I love your stories, except for the ones about your time spent in pen.
When your jailmates left you, your family was gone, and you were left all alone.
Now I am leaving a memorial to our past selves with sculptures of ash.
Counting the day down, with the cigarettes that I have left.
I've got the say that I miss the way that you used to be.
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