There Be Junkies
︎︎︎ Tim Frank
︎ May 29, 2026
Junkies on the tracks, junkies in the trees. Junkies raiding catacombs, junkies painting stars. There’s a junky scouring wishing wells, babbling words of wisdom. There’s a junky in the park, rolling down the hill. There’s a junky drinking hooch, gnawing on her foot, quoting Eyes Wide Shut. Shakespeare was a junky, a fiend for toxic glue, it broke his mother’s heart. Find your inner junky—it’s lost inside a gyre, puffing on a vape. A junky blocked my path, pleaded for a dime, then pawed my salty lips. I told him he’s infected—but who am I to judge? No, junkies are a wonder, a marvel of the mind. Watch them trace the globe, and soar like satellites.