Cigarettes & Heroin

I want a cigarette and heroin,
an older woman, thin… 
I’ve been shot.
She might understand the pain.
The heart is no place for daisy chains.
Poppies grow here.
Ropes and briars.
The earth quakes whenever someone new smiles at me.
It doesn’t mean nothing.
No place left in this world for love.
Only affairs.
Months I’ve left dead behind me.
And she,
     so violated by a married man,
Chose another to take his place.
Another married man.
Fuck being friends.
Of them I’ll always have plenty.
I _need_ someone who will understand.
Someone else who has hurt
and whose only hurt,
     which I’ve caused,
     Was to aspire for a few months more.
Attachment, half the world says,
is what only causes suffering.
Or it could be the very meaning of our lives.
To be detached means nothing.
The Buddha was a prince
who left them that needed him.
Wife & children.
To me, his life meant nothing.
I am in a hospital.
An atheist.
But do not gather in the waiting room.
God is not out there.
He is with you,
Friends & Family.
Former lovers, enemies.
Meet me in the Chapel.

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