Friday, September 14, 2018

Drug Report

Just took the last Oxy
Haven’t a clue if I’ll be hankering for more
And if my back will start to spasm like James Brown
Right around the time PCP was his only friend
And running from the cops seemed like a good idea

I feel good
Or I feel good enough
That you won’t find me
With my head in the oven
Like Sylvia and her Bell Jar

Word on the street is
Demi was snorting Oxy
And though I’ve never tried it
She’s a pop star so I’m guessing
She knows her highs and lows on a first name basis

Cumming means nothing to me
Crossing the River Styx reminds me of lemonade and black licorice
Not sure I’ll ever get used to this day to day existence thing
It’s just not my bag of marbles or Star Wars figurine I keep in its original box to get top dollar
Even the poetry isn’t waking me up like it once did and that frightens me as I sit here in this transport chair both resigned and resistant to more dubious change

Going to take a valium and hope it does more than the last one did
Prayer is the long shot you try when everything else fails and you’re left standing in the rain, listening to Led Zeppelin on a Walkman that hasn’t worked since 2006
When I asked him to call it was to share some exciting news, but he never bothered and the excitement has subsided like ocean waves or birth pangs
Thinking about going to Colorado to find the God Bud
I hear it’s living there, collecting social security as it awaits its disciples

Charles Cicirella

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