dave roskos | wkcr | circa 1992


my arm is still bruised
from the last time
I shot up
& it was over
a year ago.
I enjoyed
being alone
in my room
w/ the radio on,
sinking it
into a vein
& seeing
the blood
rapidly filling up
the needle with
red wonder,
a then SLOWLY
pushing it back in,
sometimes with a rush,
but always the warmth
of the heroin
spreading through out
my body in a wave,
the eyes opening
& closing;
the dreamy nod
of a cadaver,
as Phil Shapp ,
jabbered on
so soothingly,
no matter how
down & out
ya got
you could
tune in
& be healed
& educated
by Jazz.

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