Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Witch Sock Cigs

They were his prized possessions. 
His last taste of freedom and self.
Four tucked in is sock.
In group home uniform and awkward teenage gaunt he stood venerable as they were confiscated by my boyfriend.
A confused lonely youth fascinated by the darkest things the world had to offer.
Daniel brings them home to me.
I smoke them in honor of the teenage rehab witch.

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