CHASING DRAGONS.

Fell off the wagon
Chasing dragons
Smoking crack
There’s no going back,
Henry says.
Blurred,
Furred over days
Spent in misty rooms
Filled with acrid
Skunk fuelled fumes
Of heady dreams
Thicker it seems
Than blood
It isn’t a dream
When the needle slides
Under the skin
Where the demons hide
Leaving a red spot
A tiny dot
Of pleasure
And you nod your head
Your habit fed,
For now.
But just for now.
I wonder how
You’ll ever learn
When desperation burns
The hunger returns
And your body yearns
For smack, blow
Crack, snow,
Speed
Feed the habit.
Don’t think
Grab it,
And nod.
My god!
Dragons
Are hard to catch.

©By: - Pete Slater.   2014.