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  I watch the plunger sink under your thumb, pushing the substance through the syringe and into your vein.  The needle has bitten into your I AM CELEBRITY tattoo.  I remember watching when you got that tattoo.  I remember you telling me it was for the part of you that wanted to compete and win; to be famous; to be a movie star; that wanted to be loved, that wanted to be everybody’s hero; that wanted to be known, that wanted to suffer while every one watched and did nothing to save you; the part of you that craved drama, tragedy, and crisis.  There are track marks all over that tattoo, and I remember watching when you got all of those, too.
  With the needle still in your arm you look me in the eyes and say, “I may get high like nobody’s business, but honestly, I don’t do drugs.”

  Maybe it’s the dragon I chased earlier lying to me instead of you.  It must be those sharp teeth biting into my brain, because I’ve always believed your lies, even when I pretended not to.  When you told me “it won’t be us,” when you said “just this once.”  I should doubt you, I should hate you, I should know better, but I don’t.  I should leave you, I should rebuke you, I should let you suffer the consequences of your own actions, but I won’t.

  Your eyelids grow heavy and you take a deep breath.  Your eyes shine with angels inside even while demons make home in your heart.  You look sweeter than I’ve ever seen you, sweeter than I’ve ever believed you, but maybe that’s just Mary Jane’s reflection seducing me.  Or maybe I’m just lying to myself.  Your skin crawls with shivers and your hair looks like a wedding veil as your face falls, falls and shatters and imbeds the splinters in my bones and I can finally see the skull beneath.

  “I always loved you,” you whisper, sounding on the eve of Hell or whatever realm dark enough to rest your soul.  I can’t tell if you’re talking to me or the China white girl pulling the wool over your eyes and lulling you softly, softly into sleep, or so I think as you cease to breathe, but maybe that’s just me.  For the first time I doubt you, for the first time I shouldn’t, but I guess that sweet syringe got the best of both of us tonight.