I found a syringe
in the pay phone receiver. Pricked
my ear--in time
to hear the operator say
"The first call is for free"

so I spoke in broken dialect
addiction seems simple on empty nights
thus; I craved english
in it's most pure form.
and found native tongues less soothing.

I found serenity
separated by dial tones
calming my nerves
with gentle
morphinesque morphemes; gently
whispering happy endings
into my fixated ear

it was something tragic
to breathe like heartless zombies
when static-lines
folded.
infinity double
I felt humbled by the language
teasing my 2am.
epiphany

I came down
and the receiver was cold.


with my melted soul
I'm already moulding quarters
for just another taste.