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Dream Fisher Feb 2020
An older lady came to the pharmacy
To pick up her oxycodone twenties,
Her copay wasn't much money,
Double counted a hundred twenty
As close to me as you stand,
I explained her doctor prescribed Narcan.
In case of overdose, one spray up the nose
Can save yourself or someone else.
She twisted her face to me real funny,
And said "What do you take me for a druggie?"
She took the vial, left the spray
As I waved with a have a nice day.

She felt accused by me, in a huff,
Threw the pills up in her cabinet.
As fate would have it, her granddaughter
Came over and spotted the bottle with red cap.
Imagining the high if she could get that,
Imagining the euphoria as she stole that.
Sneaking off into the bathroom
Downing tap, she consumed a few.

Something wasn't right, her breath felt light,
Disoriented trying to read the label,
Hands shaking, feeling her body dive,
She saw the number twenty, thinking they were fives.
Unresponsive, her grandmother runs in
With the sound of a heavy crash,
She waits for paramedics who arrive at last.
Only to announce, nothing to be saved
Now she digs a grave for pride over a nasal spray.
Dr Mike OConnell May 2014
Brian Patrick

Insidious by its very nature
Yet soothing to those who indulge
It calls upon its broken cohort
Every two hours like a sentinel

It silently creeps along the mire
The Reaper within smiling and leering as he
Calls upon the Banshee McLemore
Searching for the wanton easy prey

Somehow the Poison drifts along the ebb
The shore becomes a winter haven
Solace among the rubble and waste
The storm as the background for a living hell

The innocents have no fight with the
Pinprick that brings their bodies delight
Off into the realm of self edification
The familiar warmth that overtakes

The warmth that turns into stark heat
Fluttering eyes look to the heavens
The beauty that is McLemore, lips waiting
Death in all its beauty awaits

To be stolen from the claws of McLemore
Cheated from the Reaper's blade
The spray that awakens the departed
Another snatched from the clutches of the Poison...
...has risen

© 2014 Brian Patrick

— The End —