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.