Black

Black

I’ve seen their nervous grins of anticipation,

As I make my grisly presentation.

I’ve got the needle, and the spoon,

And the lighter, and the balloon.

See how fast my fingers fly.

The magic potion that I concoct

Will make us well, or make us die.

Be still my hand, don’t spill a drop.

Please dear God, make the shaking stop.

Angels and demons fight for control,

Just be glad you can’t hear the

Tortured screams of my soul.

Replace the pain with pleasure insane.

Pin prick to the skin and I am at peace once again.

When, dear God, will this nightmare end?

I have seen my friends laugh and cry,

Love and die, but mostly die.

All because of this nightmare we call getting high.

R. F. Sorrell

March/2014-©