Wednesday, February 16, 2011

The Peddler's Whisper

The curtain rises…

Warm smoke saturates his lung tissue,
Swiftly whirling into the capillaries of his brain,
Euphoria ensues, pleasure overtakes him, Superman emerges,
“Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive,”

The peddler had whispered, “Ice, Ice, Baby,”
Mimicking the Vanilla man’s rap,
Ice is the tower to your nirvana, he promised.
Pleasure soon awaits,

Adam gazes at Eva ,
She slithers sensually toward him, her smile bright, as she casts off her attire,
Hungrily, his sex replies,
As their fantasies engage,
Mentally, he thanks the hawker for his wares,

The last act….

His emaciated form shuffles across the dirty carpet that is littered with empty beer cans,
Vacant eyes are reflected in a distant mirror,
Lying on a stained sofa, she snores,
Mouth open, drool on her face, rotten teeth just visible,
As the flame licks at the glass pipe, the fog that swirls will scarcely dampen the despair,
Suspicion is preceded by slipping sanity.
He stands on a crumbling tower that led to unreality.

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