The plunger sinks
I’m in the middle of a poppy field
Red sea
One stapled to my chest in remembrance
Attached to ecstasy
A drop of blood escapes from the hole in my skin
The syringe falls to the floor accompanied by a limp hand.
In this poppy field
Nothing is real
I hope I didn’t load too many words..
My last thought, before passing out,
From fiction.
