He hasn't seen me clearly in months

eyes clouded,

hidden behind sunglasses,

glowing from the reflection of the lighter.

The group around him is as poisonous

as the smoke that obscures his once white smile,

drifting in and out of conscious rebellion

like the vapors blowing in the air.

Don't let him fall down the rabbit hole

into a technicolor dream land

grasping at pale hands with skin as thin as paper,

descending into a bottomless, black cavern

where song lyrics and my favorite color used to live.

Brown eyes turning yellow

like the nails he scrapes against the matchbox.

Don't let his mind crumble

like the butt of a used cigarette dragged against rough concrete

leaving imperfect fragments across the pavement, staining something pure,

A trail of black regret.

Please, don't let him lose the dimple on his cheek

when sunken eyes and hollow skin come to play,

inviting scabs and scratch marks peppered where freckles should be.

Twitching lips replacing a joyful smirk,

desperate for a new light to hold between his teeth.

Don't make him become the man in the parked car at two a.m.,

heat cranked up all the way.

Pulled over in a strange forest preserve,

because he lost his emergency pack.

Don't make him be the one stumbling into the gas station like a wounded animal,

slapping spare change down on the counter like a poker player.

Don't show him the line,

standing like the cliff of sanity, temptations on the other side.

Please don't show him, because he will run to it,

arms outstretched

as wild as a vulture taking flight.