Posts Tagged ‘skag’

heroinspoon

Jack Mack loves his smack
Dream juice is his poison
Sinks into his wasted splendour
Like a warm inviting bath of angels’ tears
Seven times a day
Needle and spoon are his intimate friends
He’s fucked up every vein in his arms
And every one in his legs
He’d even fucked up the one in his cock
So he shoots up in the jugular vein in his neck
His blood is corrupted by Hepatitis C and his liver slowly rots
And every day is catalyzed by the alchemy of need
To take a break from hanging out, he sometimes smokes some weed
And benzos, codeine cough mixture, anything just to take the edge off pain
Of hanging out for opiates- nothing else matters
His habit is huge- a monk in the order of our Lady Perpetual Decadence
Track marks crucify him on every single vein
He’ll shoot up anything called dope then he’ll shoot again
His whole personality reduced to machinery to score
So he’ll keep on shooting skag, always wanting more.

The Smack Poem

Posted: February 6, 2015 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

heroin
Let’s get on
We’re gonna do some downtown
Because we have money and rebellious tendencies
And we have the right contacts
First I give my money to the guy
Then there’s always the waiting
Time slows as if stuck in molasses
Then it’s here in a little paper package
We go thirds in a hundred bucks worth
My mate mixes up in a spoon
With water from a boiled kettle
We have swabs, clean fits, even a tourniquet
All the fits are made up
He can’t find a vein in my hand
I look over to my left inner arm and see one
Faint blue snaking down towards my hand
Embedded in my pale flesh
My mate inserts the 1 ml insulin syringe down to the plastic collar in my vein
He pulls back on the stopper and a bead of dark red blood appears at the top of the smack solution
A perfect hit, first time for that vein
He pushes the stopper in,
Halfway down, he asks if it hurts
I say no
He pushes it in all the way
Gnarly narcotics are hurtling through my blood and into my rapscallion brain
A gorgeous warm numbness permeates my consciousness and my body feels soft, profound and infinitely heavy all at the same time
It comes on slowly
In a couple of minutes, anxiety, pain and paranoia have left me
I am in a perfect physiological state far superior to normal
This is the ultimate hangover cure
Just like Iggy Pop
Just like Kurt Cobain
Just like William Burroughs
Just like Lou Reed
I’m a citizen of a sacred dope kingdom
I’m a poppy-powered Dionysius
I suck the sap of the sweet somnolent flower
I’m curled up and comforted in a chemical bubble
A beloved son of a hedonistic god and blessed with holy analgesia
Pupils pinned to points in an expansive smack space with a subversive geometry
A heroin Houdini as I again dodge the habit the pigs and the politicians say I’m supposed to have by now
Like many other people who know how to use and not abuse
‘You’ve got to watch your quantities,’ as Keith Richards said
Just for six hours I lurk in a heavenly hagiography of hopped-up heroes and soft mellow feelings
Valhalla for the chemically impaired
Enlightened and emerging from my introvert shell
So free of fear that I cross over into confidence and charm
Enjoying the companionship of my fellow wastoids
Kurt always said he felt more sociable after a shot
Social anxiety dissolves in opioids
The ultimate answer
To almost any problem
Is thirty three bucks worth of skag
Coming soon to a dealer near you