Consumption

Soft milk billows from her lips, the hue of red,
eyes sunken deep from another sleepless night,
she takes another hit, in hope it goes straight to her head,
to forget her past, forget her future, forget her very existence

Desperation, Intoxication; they stain her face in pale remarks,
She bears the thought of fault for what she has become,
She craves her innocence, as smoke rings her neck tighter than before
A rollercoaster high, no pinch could wake

Pills litter her bed-side table, assorted colors capped in orange
She hugs her knees, and prays to whatever god would listen
Her hands start to shake, not in fear but in rage
Another hit, another bump, another drag, another day