Charles Bukowski of DUP (Renegade Poets)

Junkies attract no one  
The scent of a dope fiend hangs on their skin and clothing  
Like permanent cigarette stink  
   
Clean and clear  
the Junkie thinks he has re-entered this world  
only to find, clean or not,  
he is a ghost in an adjacent  
and never intersecting dimension.    
Able to see and communicate  
but not touch.  
   
Money changes everything though  
No reason not to try again...  
.