Junkie

I am a junkie, not heroin, not crack
Insulin.  I started on pork
Now it’s synthetic DNA, manufactured
Not in the veins, no, that would kill
A little drip from a little machine
a little bump now and then
a little crash here and there
every three days I gotta have my fix
The needle goes in with a plastic device
The nurse called it a “harpoon”
I didn’t take it personal.  Just get out of my way
Don’t get between me and that clear fluid
so pure, so precious, I cannot spill or waste a drop
But if I do spill, if I drip,
I put my hands to my face and inhale the fragrance
it smells so good and clean and almost-plastic
It means everything to me
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