There's something dead in the junkie's soul, some fargone old as love death occured, long ago.
The tough as nails anemic anorexichusk it hides oil smoke and hatred he appears forcibly pacified, the world to hell for that fix,
we may say forgive, he says "shit forgive they done me wrong" And he pushes. further to blight further to illness he pushes to ailment, ails, dies ailing unforgiven and unforgiving lays gently and burns out too fast
