KaMac
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3:16 a.m.

Dirty walls, once white but
now yellowed like teeth
from years of smoking
accent the smallness of
the apartment serving as
refuge for a pale figure
tightly curled into a ball
trying to lift the fog
cloudy of drug stupor
She lifts her head slowly
lifeless, greasy hair swirling
craving what kills all others
another hit

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