Inspiration looming in a malodorous mind dwelling thought, loose bleeding faces; convulsing image, clutching hearts, he cut the cord of sanity, I drink to you, my loss, gone away, still tenacious memory, the remains of a dead friend's essence. If smiles could be bottled up and sold with a fancy label, if only death was like a smile. Blocking out his expression was like trying to peel my skin off, not impossible, yet inconceivable. I should have gone to your funeral, I should have done this, and could have said that, but I'll remember your laughter, and the sizzling times of euphoria we shed together, a part of ourselves, I moved on, as did you, in another fashion, a new dimension. Wish you were here, some day I'll be there. Driving through that crappy ghetto ridden part of town, with skinny pregnant women, flashing leg, with us both fiending like middle class rich boys gone wrong, with a wallet full of bills, and a street corner of bugged out eyeballs. That kid we talked about, tugging on his addicted Mom's shirt. "I'm hungry ma." We wanted to quit after that, probably should have. Smelling the Fixation of our only escape, playing that perilous game, we never knew how dangerous, but it's hard for me to think of you in those last moments, they say an impending feeling of doom, when the heart flips out, I could only imagine the fear, the panic, the last thought. I like to now fixate on the virtuous times, yet the blues sometimes consumes me, you always did do to much, it's incredible you made it this long I suppose, it's like the time I said "I could never get enough," those thoughts haunt me, cause I never had enough to be in your shoes.