Junky Poems

White smoke breaks the tension
to euthanize the strain

As you inhale, a small reaction
begins from the central nervous station,

which at last
echoes outward in soft tremors
that dissolve in blood

and flush the system with beautiful waves
of amazing chaos.

All becomes numb
the world shuts
and this is it

This is what we came for

Suddenly . . .
the back of the mind
finds itself emptied
of all its complaints

Your secret armies surrender for the moment . . .
. . . the mental engine switches speed
eyes close . . .
. . . and breathing changes

There is a tone in the ear:
it rings to signal the madness
like a warning to an air raid

The mind is cleansed
but yet we are stained
The heart is free
but we are already captive

White smoke breaks the tension
and your mind runs on
with reasons why you need “It”

 . . . to soothe the pain
that causes the havoc
. . . to calm the voices

which inevitably turn wheels
that spin the cycle

and keeps you going back for more.

That’s why the first hit is always free . . .




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