And then...

And then a white trail of smoke slashes a diagonal line across the blue sky
And then the jagged brown mountains poke the delicate pink sky
And then the fingers massage the keys of the piano as he closes his eyes in ecstasy
And then he weeps because it burns when someone touches his neck
And then he shoots a needle into his neck to fill his body with artificial joy
And then I write because there is nothing else I can do to stay alive