Pipe Barrel Tip

I paint perception
as you dance and spin
in the center of it all,
with dust,
smoke, and powder.
You inject and swallow the inspiration
of sorrow and night,
While I sketch the world around you,
in an urban blur,
of yellow cabs and city sprites-
a skewed backdrop of blinking lights and starry nights.

I am an artist,
and as such, my ability
to keep you alive
is confounded
on the points of needles,
spoons,
matches, and the barrels of pipes.

While your desire to live hesitates
on the broken point of a pencil,
the felt tip of a pen,
and the hem of a closing door.

Reality is a cheap immitation.