The street was lit up like a million Christmas trees. It was nights like these that Bonnie yearned for the comfort of a home. A warm blanket, a sense of security. The badness has taken over her, leaving nothing but charred lungs and an older complexion. The pain of reliance poisons her brain, she’s ended up here again, dirty spoon and lighter in hand, scrambling to feel that temporary fulfillment as silent tears roll down her face. Lost and broken she wanders, giving anything for a gram. She gives, piece by piece until, if nothing is left. And it’s nights like these that she misses being loved. Sometimes if she has enough of the badness she can forget. She doesn’t crave or miss. So she searches endlessly for that outlet. To forget Frankie, Rusty, her mom. Everyone that once existed but is now a figment of her imagination. Disappeared into her blackened mind. Everyone that mattered now gone, pushed away in the fury of her self- destruction. Her body is now a desolate wasteland, begging to be replenished of the nurture that has been neglected to be given for so long. It was nights like this that Bonnie could feel. When the badness ran low in her veins and she was digging through trash cans for food. When she could fully comprehend that she’s alone. When her insides felt like they were on fire and she could barely breathe. Bonnie couldn’t help but give in, give herself fully to the badness and wish she had someone, anyone. While all around her the street lit up like a million Christmas trees.