Quick Fixes

Seven days straight-black coffee,
his fuel to survive what
he must endure-his loneliness.
Nicotine marrow tickles his tongue,
addiction inhaled deeply
from rolled paper bones
a quick fix in lit flame
keeps him feeling okay.
His fingers find the
cold steel strings
of his guitar, he
plays a sad chord, or
two
three
or four.
The beautiful noise,
drowning his pain while
echoing his sad heartbeat.
He’s aged quickly-his face
wearing deep worn ridges
and worry lines and filled
with veins snapped off
every inch by the force
of his quick fix bad habits,
revealing his older than he is age.
Loneliness and despair
bleeding his life away
while he loses himself in his
quick fix music- aching melodies
momentarily releasing him

 

© 2010 Lyndsey Warren