smells like junkies

   
 the same, somehow, for each of them

   strong scent of  sickly sweet shampoo mixed up with the smoke of 1 million
       cigarettes and the parade of one million lies  spilled from their lips

     remnants of pulled apart cigarette filters
        blood
          head lice and suicide

   pinpoint pupils in bright blue eyes and cadence of speech and voice
            so unmistakably, so violently disfigured

    and just the same
     a procession of them, gone
   
                for good