Heroin makes you itch

As time passes

you fade into orange

London night: I return

to my skin, joyful at

finding myself.

It’s the way you slip

in, get underneath my

fingernails inhabit the

space behind my eyes

two fishes unaligned

pulling in opposite directions.

It was a novel experience

at the start ‘n I still crave it

like heroin, but heroin makes

me sick vomit up my life

benumbed in pink light

It’s the way you slip

in, get underneath my

fingernails inhabit the

space behind my eyes

you, so intent on intensity

I pop like a glass bulb.

It takes about a week

for the symptoms to

dissipate, I smile again

at old ladies, at grey

commuter faces.

Maybe ‘Boots’ could sell

a detoxifying lotion:

I could spread it on the sky

& hope you couldn’t

find me.

It’s the fear that overrides

oroboric  warmth collective

suicide, where egoless

we float until the end

of time

which brings me back to

………time passes…………