Junky

Junky can, Junky do.
I did it in a thorough going way
until there was no chance of resurrection,
as only a junky can,
I don’t bother to answer my phone now
’cause there is nothin’ of me left.

Junky, he said, You’ve just turned into a junky,
I don’t even know who you are.
Don’t feel bad, neither do I.
You keep going back and you’re not finished yet.
You’ll go back for another fix ’til you are
totally wiped out, then maybe you’ll quit.

But you can stay at the bottom
a good long time.
Junky knows, Junky can.
Junky lookin’ for that peaceful place
beyond resurrection,
beyond responsibility to hope.

Junky gets a black eye
doesn’t bother to wonder why,
one thing a junky never questions
is the rightness of the junk.

Junky’s told she’s ugly,
Junky’s told she’s mean,

Junky gets a fist in the face
and she’s got no right to scream.

Of all our passions and obsessions,
love is the most brutal in its revenge.
Junky knows. Junkies have no friends,
junkies can’t be trusted because of their junk.

Junkies never begin with the intention
of becoming junkies.
Junkies get started ’cause somebody says
this is gonna be so good
and junkies believe them ’cause they need to,
’cause they haven’t had good lately,
or ever, or on their own.

And stuff delivers just often enough
to keep ’em a junky, and tells ’em
the rest of the time it was an illusion,
their imagination, lack of objectivity
or any other words it takes
to keep a junky knowin’ that what
a junky thinks can’t be right anyway.
Junky always knows she’s a junky,
lookin’ for a way to escape
whatever truth she’s afraid of,
daddy didn’t love me, neither do you,
world ain’t got use for anything I do.
Junkies don’t say the words,
just look for some kind of stuff
strong enough to make ’em able to
outrun the story of their life a little longer.

Junky hurts now, with or without the junk.
Junky’s body can’t even remember pleasure.
Junkies never begin with the intention
of becoming a junky,
they’re just lookin’ for somethin’ to give ’em hope
or deliverance to the other side where
its bitter taste can never hurt them again.
Either way seems better in the beginning.

Junky knows everything about beginnings
bad ends/hard lives/tough times
cold backs/rough hands/mean words.
Junky knows all of this, its origin
and conclusion. Junky knows.

Junky sacrifice everything for stuff,
in behalf of stuff,to keep stuff, get stuff,
maintain the illusion of having stuff.
Junky sacrifice anything/everything
to stuff: work/time/literature/music
bright days/clear eyes/the love of little children
ain’t nothin’ for a junky to give up.
Junky can, Junky do.

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