Crouched back in the attic of my past

Sits the faceless people I used to know

Those I snorted dope with

Or smoked dope with

And because it’s been decades since they've defined me

They sit in the crevices of my subconscious

Attic junkies

Tweaking in the far back corner of my mind

And like warped wood they add character

But aren’t very nice to look at