he’s bent at the waist
black hair hangs in dank strings
as a greasy curtain
his amber eyes clenched tight
his mouth sagging open above a metal can
as he spews up every poison in his body
each ounce he heaves
stands for each beer bottle he’s kissed
for each cigarette his fingers have caressed
for each time
suicide
has crept its tempting way across his thoughts

as he straightens his spine,
pale fingers still gripping the rim of his innocence’s tomb
his eyes flicker up
to the camera
and in those eyes
there is no hope, no spark, no passion
no icon, no rock star, no hero standing tall
there is only a scared man
a boy
afraid of the darkness in his mind

just a little boy
who learned all too quick
the meaning of
dependency