Junkie's Last Ride (a true story)
By 1stpoet
Junkie’s Last Ride In a dimly lit basement On the cities East Side Is a lonely illegal chemist Concocting the Junkie’s last ride With flasks and spoons And a dime-store scale He fills little balloons For his evening sale A little mixture of powder and dust The covet of the junkie The object of lust White crystalline high, His cash he will spend To experience the Fly He will go to no end The dope it is laced He lies on the floor Was all of this worth The stuff he did score Now in a rig, sirens cutting the night Medics struggle to give air To a trachea tight At the morgue, on a gurney like ice Was the Junkie’s last ride Worth his life, What a price! William Dawes June 23, 2000I work volunteer on weekends for an e-unit company. Some of what has been seen on the streets has been poured through my pen. I will share some more experiences of life in other works. Written June 23rd, 2000 © on Dec 16 2001 12:37 PM PST 17 • 0 • 9
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"Junkie’s Last Ride..."