Nostalgia

I see the inside of my veins..

Filled with false hope,
Through needles full of dope 
Pricks, pokes, blood soaked;
I was pinned, against my own skin
Begging my life to end,
Faster than a train
Suppressing senseless pain,
Led on, driving in vain

My steering became strained
& down came the rain,
Hopesprung, so I began to run
To a life anywhere from despair,
I washed myself clean of your disdain
Watched as you circled the drain,
Until you went down; estranged

For today, I am rearanged, 
Fixed on my open range
Oh, how I count the days..

Two 
Years,
Three 
Months,
Twenty five
Days

I am no longer a participant in your heroin haze