I wonder what it’s like
to raise a silver spoon
from the set your parents gave you
when you moved into your apartment.
Would they have given it to you
if they had known you’d be using it
for more than just soup.

When you had your parents over
and they brought their favorite wine.
When did you start looking at the bottle
and decide that liquor wasn’t enough.
That you need more to ferment your mind
to escape a world you perceive
to be unforgiving.

I wonder if your hands ever shake
when you hold your favorite zippo
under a lump of tar on a spoon
and watch the flame dissolve
the murky pearl into a solution.

What is it like to ignore a phone call
from the girl at the bar that you liked.
To lift up a needle
as your phone goes to voicemail
and ingest.

Do you ever think about your family
when you tie a tourniquet around your arm.
Or remember your friends
when you expose your brittle veins.
What are you thinking about
when you pierce through skin
to replace love,
I wonder.