Cocaine

Valium was the good witch of the North

Its gently falling snow soothing the sores

Of my fevered, mad mind…

 

Wound tight with the blight

Of a crystal, cocaine night

Starless, Mars-lit bright

My veins are quite contrite

 

My face is like the moon

All eerie, bloodless gloom

The son is in its tomb

A yellowed, tattered plume

 

My lips are rather blue

A deadly, ghoulish hue

But the sky’s sardonic view

Says more abuse — it must ensue

 

So these asteroidal things

Garbed in leather, metal rings

Collide and crater me with stings

Such are free love’s sweet flings

 

And the neon New York night

Smiles cruelly at my plight

Office buildings twinkle spite

Like tombs dancing on life trite

 

Copyright, David Gottfried, 1997

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