White crystals,
Chink of steel on glass,
Three goons gather around,
Rolled up twenty,
Nose ready, what’s the bouquet?
The numbing of faces,
Contorted imagery,
Images viewed in a flicker show,
Twenties dresses and a big red bow,
World jolts in twitching perpetualness,
Brain spins like a gyroscope inside a skull of foam, Kings, queens and jacks chatter amongst themselves, Falling gently to the table top,
A laugh formed in the centre of being,
Takes control of me,
And infects all around,
A happy virus contagious to the last,
Body aches in convulsive joy, Phsycadelic snot rolls down the back of my throat, Buzzing me over and over,
No escape from the cocaine effect,
As it pulses through me,
Pins and needles softly stab my body,
In a lovers caress,
Three lines down,
Remnants to smoke,
In a joint of two narcotics,
Waves of hyperactivity and lethargy
Wash over me and my confused mind,
Up and down on a rope of rubber,
Senses scramble turning life inside out,
To view the world on its head,
And me on my arse,
Coked up and no control,
The price to be paid come sunrise,
When the devil will claim my soul.

Picasso acrylic pen. More at Bespoke Woods Facebook page.

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