languid eyelids flitter
****** coma holding sway
distracted by buzzing
too disinterested to swat
loose muscles bounce
to the gentle sounds of the passing road
breathing in deep the smell
old lemons and butane
slurry of black gold
thick mass enters the hollow tube
knees wobble with sick anticipation
blistered tongue
rest stop for residue
slight sting and intent focus
straight spike slides beneath the pink
disappearing silver
register in one try
like the angels granted a birthday wish
black showing a slight tinge
and the push begins
slowly at first, but gaining momentum
tossed away, the implement of destruction rests
on the passenger seat
only 14 hours to go
and ½ a gram in the eyeglasses case
Dr. Thompson got nothing on me
Vegas by dawn