all the days of our lives


Dear Moon , it has been a long time. I forgot about what we promised that night. After everything I told you what I would do, I failed. You know, it is funny how things work couldn’t believe you when you told me I was meant for greater things, sexy clothes and  a drug free life. Why would I? How could I? My chances for happiness are hundreds yet I still frantically fuck my regrets with no regret. I met a boy, Moon. His eyes were big like dew drops from an ants perspective. Always sniffing always laughing. Sometimes he cried but only when he thought of his kids. Amber, Sammy and Katie, he loved them when he laughed. When I told him I was pregnant he cried and hugged me underneath you. If only my mum were here, she would be so happy but heroin kills the ones you love. I was her favorite her shining star. She was sick in the head with something deep and hurtful. You could see it in her eyes when she smoked a cigarette. Her name was Diana, she was beautiful once. She loved punk rock, vintage guitars and peppermint tea though heroin was her favorite. The puncture was her baby the needles stairways in cigar boxes. My grandparents told me at her funeral that my Dad was a man of God that tried to save my mum she choose t
The boy was my soul. He broke the law for my hundreds of happiness. Not in a blatantly violent manner just around the pigs with a broken bow shooting rubber arrows kind of way. We broke the law together when we first started going out. He sold drugs to college kids in Portland shooting up in park bathrooms, fucking me on the roots of gigantic trees. I just followed along, dressing his wounds with kisses and curses. All of his friends had brain damage amazing cock sucking abilities. Believed in higher powers like the needle. Most were were gay for pay. Most were dead within a month of meeting them. Heroin is a naked bitch, slut kinky as death. She tasted of strawberries at first, sweet like virginity then it slams you without regret. No hard feelings, nothing personal. It it just business. We lost Dallas, a girl. It was a sudden death, She probably felt all of it. Even in a family on the streets, no shatters no matter how Long of how much you loved the person, the flesh family are the ones who bury the bodies. Though Moon, the needles they shared, the deals they made, everything they gave up for a kiss the hours sitting in front of hipster houses begging for beer trading stones shooting neck veins bursting into tears when veins burst. I feel Moon is flesh in itself.

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