Angel dust
My hands are steady as I hold the needle to my pale, unhealthy skin. I aim for the bright blue vain that is resting under the many layers of skin.
The pale skin is easy to break, The needle ruins the perfect marks of joined skin, layers of cells warped, joined and contented. The needle slides in the thin vain, breaking the wall.
Deep dark red blood steeps though the now opened vain, Washing over the needle, Running down my skin.
I can almost feel the sweet poison fill the vain. Its ready to carrie the new life line, I now await the feeling of relief. The ironic feeling of control. I almost smile, The Angels dust is working and I am flying free.