"whoring my heroin" by albie tross (pseudonym for myself)

tie my torniquet

make it look coquette

light the flame, who else is to blame?

but myself, but my family

...

not my family? not myself?

then who else?

melting; pulling; prepping; injecting

too many "ings"

is this my ending?

oh, there it is, that feeling

i'm self-healing...more like death-dealing

more "ings"

...

no, this isn't right

unwiped forehead, soaked and bright

fingernails of amethyst, skin cold like hypatia

those aren't the rocks

the one that matters is the rock in my veins

making my breath haggard

no worries, this is okay

what do i amount to anyways?

i'm not letting this happen because i want to die

i've just always wanted to fly

- albie tross

(fictional writing, not taken from real experiences)