Tuesday, September 27, 2011

An Ode To A Crackhead (Fifty-Eight Year Old Vietnam Veteran Addicted to Crack Cocaine) 2007

I'm descending. Fast. Oh, the dark sky with the bright full moon; its center stays a constant as I rapidly fall; not changing in its scope or perspective. Fuck it all! I'm so glad I bought the eight ball! My clothes flap vigorously, noisily upwards from whence I came. Life's a damn shame. The bottom is nigh; I can feel its imminence. The wind blows around me and through me.

Let me hit it!

I suck in the harsh air. Feel the death in its properties. But I don't care! Oh, the lovely heavens and the moon. I expel the residuals; coughing horribly from the exhalation; calming down. Marveling at the bright full moon and the dark sky.

Let me hit it!

I flip over on my chest to get my orientation in tact. Blackness all around. But there's always a bottom to the rocks. I pull my arms in. My legs held tightly together, facilitating flight and speed, a human bullet. I smile because it won't be long now. Speeding along, quickening my demise. But I don't care! The air is so pure, pristine.

Let me hit it!

I sully my lungs one last time! Ummmmm! I see my fate coming fast. But I don't care! If I don't hit rock bottom soon...

I'll just hit it again!

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