he’s the kind of guy who takes a bunch of naked pictures
interspersed with not-naked pictures
and wants to show you not-naked pictures,
but you accidentally see some unexpected dick.
he’s the kind of guy who reads difficult books
because his head craves exciting brilliant difference.
he’s the kind of guy who needs to sedate the fuck
out of himself before he can take a greyhound.
he’s the kind of guy who only gets into
relationships with men who abuse him.
he’s the kind of guy who always needs a ride.
he’s the kind of guy who made art in spring
that looks strangely like the art you made in spring.
he’s the kind of guy whose family
will no longer speak with him.
he’s the kind of guy who when you get a collect call,
you assume it’s him calling from jail.
he’s the kind of guy who says he’s gay,
but you suspect there’s more to that story.
he’s the kind of guy who says he loves you,
but can’t really see you.
he’s the kind of guy who mentions drugs he’s using
over facebook messenger,
which you suspect is not the best idea.
he’s the kind of guy sleeping on the street,
having sex for money.
he’s the kind of guy you think is talking crazy–
then later, it suddenly hits you, what he meant.
he’s the kind of guy who will use you
until you decide to cut him off too.
he’s the kind of guy who loses everything
every time he loses his housing.
he’s the kind of guy who has a name and a real name.
he’s the kind of guy you cry when you hug.
love
This poem about my good addict friend is sad but accurate. Maybe I should start a gofundme for when he gets out of jail again.
Love to every addict, everywhere. You are beautiful, and I’m sorry what the world did to you continues to hurt you. And how the world gets off the hook, but you don’t. I see the injustice of your struggle. I love you.
