I remember the first time I met you. You came to me with such an aggression, such a hunger, that I couldnt get away. Now, at 1 am, I’m listening to that old rock song you and I drank to the first night you came back to me. It doesnt hurt, but with a bottle of jack in my hand and and old cd player, I miss you. Three little poppers await me after my date with a drink, I’ll swallow them all in one go, the addiction coursing through my veins, hoping to lose a few pounds, dream a few dreams, mourn the loss of you, before waking up in the morning, alarm blaring, and doing it all over again.