The Score (or What's for Brunch?) (poem) by Michael S. True on AuthorsDen

The Score (or What's for Brunch?)
by Michael S. True → (All Poetry by Michael S. True)
Rated "R" by the Author.

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Why is it that addiction always seems to be the friend we never had? Author's comment - I do not wish to be seen as advocating the use of drugs. This is a wicked vision of a past life that I felt needed to be let out of the box. People may not realize the intensity of the habit and the immediate payoff the user experiences. The toll however is in the loss of money, the loss of jobs, of relationships, and ultimately the loss of health and/or life. Consider it a seedy black and white film noir piece on the compulsive behavior of a person addicted to virtually anything that can be put up his nose. M.True
The front door slams Spin around Latch the chain Twist the lock Twist the lock The room is dark The curtains drawn Find a lamp Switch it on Switch it on Locate the baggie In your pocket Fish it out Hold it up Hold it up You shake your head Forget the money Forget the money It�s already gone Already gone Make for the nightstand Open the drawer Remove the mirror Take the blade Take the blade Quickly move To kitchen table Grasp the razor Cut the bag Cut the bag A grainy powder Hits the mirror The small white pile Reflects itself Reflects itself You tap the bag Make sure its empty Lick your finger Wipe inside out Inside and out It goes to your gums The taste is bitter Rub it in Sweet, bittersweet Sweet, bittersweet It�s just a tease Of what�s to come Your soul so hungry It�s time to eat Time to eat Tongue thickens as you Wield the razor You rock the blade Take your time Take your time You move the powder Closer to you Chop the rocks Draw a line Draw a line Divide it by two Side by side You need a straw Where�s the straw? Where is that straw? Back to the drawer Frantic searching Invisible tube One inch long One inch long There you are My little darling Come with me Time for fun Time for fun Deep breath in Clear those nostrils You�re in your chair It�s almost time It�s all but done Steady the straw Inhale the powder Head tipped back Close your eyes Close your eyes Again the straw Another nostril Your fingers tremble Til surface shines Til surface shines Head back once more In anticipation Wait for the explosion Teeth on edge Teeth on edge Heartbeat pounding The nose reacts Sinuses dripping Warm and wet Warm and wet Now you can swallow The sickly taste teases You can feel the change Forget the time Ignore the time Today we say this boy�s gone wild Now sniff Now swallow Now sniff Sniff harder Now swallow Now sniff Feeling warm Feeling warmer Sniff, Sniff harder The world around you Grows soft Grows softer A buzz in your ears Feels warm Feels warmer Feels softer Warmer, Softer� You stare blankly And then Your face is badly shattered by a crooked smile. Michael True 11-26-06 last edit 7-20-14 ��

Reviewed by Odin odin@aflx.com

Reviewed on July 24, 2014

Like a shattered mirror, putting the pieces back as they were might be done, but not without a toll...the glue of one's choosing or necessity will always show. Loved this piece.

Reviewed by Ruan Mills

Reviewed on July 21, 2014

I would hope this horrifically descriptive, brilliantly portrayed, peek behind the scenes serves to deter rather than advocate. Who would choose this if they knew beforehand what to expect.
Rx

Reviewed by Michael True

Reviewed on July 20, 2014

Author's comment - I do not wish to be seen as advocating the use of drugs. This is a wicked vision of a past life that I felt needed to be let out of the box. People may not realize the intensity of the habit and the immediate payoff the user experiences. The toll however is in the loss of money, the loss of jobs, of relationships, and ultimately the loss of health and/or life. Consider it a seedy black and white film noir piece on the compulsive behavior of a person addicted to virtually anything that can be put up his nose. M.True

Reviewed by Jerry Bolton

I don't normally comment on poems which champion drugs, but since I understand, and have lived the life you have described I'm commenting. Yes, I have been there. Done that. Your descriptive lines in this work was very accurate. In a toilet in a Gas Station in Mobile, Alabama I threw my stash in the toilet and flushed it out my life. Then I stomped the spike into little bitty pieces and walked out of that service station a free man. That was many years ago, and I know that if I had not done that wouldn't be here today.