Your Poetry Dot Com - Ode To Junk

"Come to the shooting gallery
Today poison is mellow.
Get your stuff, get your stuff!"
And she boots me till I glow
Insatiable, I can't get enough

Like a vampire needing blood
I then try some angel dust
Receiving my orgasmic jolt and
A slave to cosmic contraband
In love with chemical lust

Speedballing fast and flying high
Through the clouds to kiss the sky
Thanks to the dealer in this grotshop
On whom I so rely
And I never miss a drop

Not much later I pop some acid
Gliding away on a terrific trip
Into space and out of sight
Captain Cosmos and I'm only a kid
But free-er than you at this height

And with my free-base extraction kit
A neophyte inhaling snow
Exploring virgin territory
Rush, I sure am crying for it
And my mind it sure does blow

And with pupils like pin-points
I put away my clotted needle
Yes I'm booted and bullet-proof
Enjoying two juicy joints
And floating slowly through the roof

And I'll cop again in three hours
Hip hallucinations a hit away
Living only for that score
When I'll again receive party powers
(But I'm needing more and more)

Meet my friend, a fixer chick
As we hustle Johns on the side
Because we're wanting the extra loot
For enough to get the same kick
When we score again and shoot

At one hundred and fifty bucks a gram
We do Johns at Toilet Swallow
It's a pity about my V.D.
But for a fix I give a damn
Especially now, I'm feeling so low

Sweating while coughing black phlegm and blood
The withdrawal pangs of cold turkey
And a slight case of jaundice
In the mirror my alien face is crud
But you get used to it with practice

One more John and I'll have the cash
To score a little 'ice' cream
And maybe a bit of hash
Some ego food for this funky dude
My desire so extremely lewd

Again I withdraw my rusted syringe
A certifiable narcissist on heat
Yes baby, this is a spacial binge
As I receive that supercharged flash
And loving my effigy, burning to ash

Smugglers, lookouts, baggers, and pushers
Heroin, snow, crystal-meth and cappis
Bongs, burners, needles and spoons
Fixers, snorters, draggers and poppers
And we all keep singing their tunes

They say it's so diabolic
That I should be a coke-aholic
But how the hell would they know
About blowy-groovies so euphoric
If they'll never have a go?

So it's a dirty and dangerous trade
But the bribed cops wouldn't dare raid
We coke-heads thrive on it
Stuff you, it's a junkie's element
So don't bug me you mothers - relent!

Losing my nasal membrane
A hole in the septum of my nose
As I visit the full-time snow-brokers
For another relief from pain
Yeah, I sure do need those jokers

Nearly there, thanks to quite a good day
Doing Johns, must've turned twenty tricks
And every one of them was condoned
But heaps of death with which to pay
For lots of 'H' to get me stoned

Aspirins and cola gives you quite a buzz
Or so they used to say
Went to the loo and pee’d
And soon afterwards O.D.’d
Forgetting goodbyes: futile fatal seed.

DjMayhew

This poem is Copyright ยฉ MAYHEWDAVID