
Sweat beads off seemingly every pore as he
Shakily lights the flame
Which transforms $10 powder
To liquid gold.
For a moment he
watches bubbles.
A sorrowful sigh escapes
But is snatched away by great anticipation.
Soon things will be right again.
He dips the tip into his dream
Pulling its promise in standby
Extracts.
Taps bubbles.
He sets the rocket aside.
Exchanges spoon for rubber
And ties off his arm
Pumps fist, searching
To find the lucky vein –
The one giving respite
From life’s woes.
The fiery touch
Fingers his soul
And trashes his body
Takes his mind.
He waits.
Nods.
Wakes,
Thinking of his next fix.
This is his life.
He wants more. dreams
But remains
Trapped.
That first trip
Overtaken
By a terrorist.
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