Binge
at one the deed is done, its over,
joyous labours of love, bliss, excelsior
soar on the high of an amphetimine.
at two the need to screw is gone,
lost in swirls of colour, cocaine bliss, amiss
twinge in my needle marked arm.
at three I can no longer see, nor feel,
barely hear as the ambulance wheel screeches
ripping me off to the hospital.
needles more needles….white coats and stethoscopes
forcing me back to reality….
The Binge by Lurking Fear, unless otherwise expressly stated, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.