The First Time I Did Heroin Poem by Jay Ess

The vein in my left arm
Is a really interesting one,
I must say.
There is one, larger, main vessel,
that branches off into two separate vessels.
One on the left, one on the right.
The main vessel is large,
bulging and pulsing.
In a way
It reminds me of us, or
more so, what I hoped for us.
Strong, steady and filled with
red, “The Color of Love.”
And the vein that branches to the right.
That one reminds me of you.
How it follows its predisposed direction, set by the main vessel
Never swaying, always on track
With a duty
To carry blood to the hand;
And it has never failed
to reach its destiny.

You were always right.

And the vein that branches left, a hard left,
It reminds me of me.
From the main vessel, this smaller vein steers away,
making a sudden left.
As all the other veins have a clear path
directing them to the wrist and into the hand,
this vein merely fizzles away.
Somewhere deep into the arm,
With no clear destination,
Or purpose.

I was left, alone.

But maybe,
If I take the needle of this
delicate syringe,
And inser it, smoothly, into that left branch.
Maybe, the blood will begin to rush, faster.
Maybe, I’ll be able to see where that vein is headed,
if it’s headed anywhere.
MAYBE, it reconnects with the vein on the right,
somewhere further down the arm,
or not.
Maybe, if I give it just the right amount,
maybe it will make something of itself,
maybe it will BE something.
Something, like its flawless counterpart
on the right.