Fatal Bliss

Dark light.
A solitary figure.
Desolate.
Anxious.
Bending.
Desparate.
For a fix.
The first inhale.
Of toxic pot.
Settles the mind.
Peace comes.
In pieces.
A slight relaxation.
Not yet though.
Another stick.
A smile appears on her face.
A faint smile.
Toms toms.
Beats in her head.
What a strange beat.
Another stick.
Of grass.
Quickly smoked.
For a quick fix.
For a quick dose of ethereal joy.
Not yet there.
But better now.
Slightly happier.
So she thinks.
Its a lethal bliss.

Still craving.
For a higher high.
Suddenly.
A syringe.
Laced with pure poison.
Appears.
To pierce a delicate skin.
For a momentarily happinness.
The kick is enermous.
Suddenly she is alive.
Dirty and unkept.
Smelling.
In a sweet stupor.
A mad bliss.
Ectasy.
Gives her a sure climax.
Then she collapses.
If she wakes up.
It will be a miracle.
Heroin.
Makes her a heroine.
Cocaine.
Makes her cocky.
So sad.
So unfortunate.
Such a fatal bliss.

© Ayoub Mzee 2012

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