A Blow Job And Some White Stuff.

A poem about coke. I've never done it, its not aimed at you and I was bored during religion class, so don't get all fussy. 

Senses shot

Face numb

Hyper mind

Pull out the rug.

From under my feet

Put it over my head

Now things are dark

And reality’s dead.  

The people I knew

No longer find me credible 

The things I snort

Now placed on a pedestal.                  

Feeling like a star

But only when I’m high

Then I come down hard

Like an exhaled sigh.

But not of relief 

And not of suffice

Cause’ now life’s a gamble

Will you blow on my dice?

And out rolls the powder

White like fresh snow

Floating in the air

Now I’m ready to blow.

There’s a numbness to my lips

And a whiteness to my snot

And a little voice inside my head

And all it screams is ROT.

So chop it up

And lay it out

Then snort it hard

No room for doubt.

The feeling dies down

In ten minutes flat

Now I’m scrounging around                  

Like an old sewer rat.

All the powder I see

Crammed into my nose

Making life seem risky

Like an unthorned rose. 

But surely one day

Sober reality will hit

The money will run out

Cause I never gave a shit.

I’ll be sober and broke

No means of earning cash

To finally see what I’ve become

One big post-war aftermath. 

I’ll scream at people

Who don’t deserve it

I’ll mooch off family   

Become their burden.

I’ll smoke my weed

Eat some skrillz 

Snort my coke

Swallow my pills.

It’s so sad when I’m sober

I see my life in Guilderland

Then I need to take some drugs

And pray to God they filter in. 

They’ll take away my vision

And convert it to illusion

They’ll take away my conscience

And make its absence my solution.

I like to self-medicate

I’m a doctor, if you will

I write my own prescriptions 

And fill myself some pills.

I’m not going to stop

Not until it’s too late

I’m too high to reason this

So I guess I’ll call it fate.