A junkie breaks into a drug dealer’s stash house.
Volume down, no sound,
too late, no debate,
then someone would scream and shout,
As the junkie was stretched out
on his stomach,
in a first floor hallway,
On a fading day,
a red puddle of wetness
where his right eye use to be,
as death and darkness agree to disagree,
the junkie ran out like a mouse,
as he tried to break into the stash house,
there was no dispute,
the drug dealer would shoot,
killing the junkie instantly,
the case, moot,
the dealer couldn’t even file, a civil suit.
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