Chasing Dragons

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Commercial Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
The boardwalk has become a pick up point for hookers.
and a place to traffic heroin
This side of the river is awash with every kind of scum, and across the river the people are sitting under a summer sun listening to a military band.........

Submitted: October 10, 2009

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 10, 2009



She shuffled along the quay in such the greyest terror
That struck and lashed her flayed burned eyes;
And the band played across the river where the summer tourists were sitting along the embankment
Comfortable chatty , happy within themselves between the airs

The cacophony of chaotic sound chased her screaming demons
Round and round  in the fuming persecution of her head
To the terror stricken trembling tips

The methadone clinic wouldn’t open for another hour
And then they only gave her half enough
So she came to score some valium or zimovane
To tide her over this crucifying hour
Where all that moved , sounded  ; every soul
Was chasing her round and round the maypole of her child hood,
Round and round her persecution chasing  her paranoia
In a demonic dance of the devil.

At last Dave the Dude came by
He’d have something at least
But there was always a payback with the Dude.
A car would be arranged .
Go with this brute or that , and do whatever they ask
That was all he asked , and they paid him well .

It was the same now , gentle Dave who killed you with his pleasant charm
And cultured voice; lured you ; locked you in with the dragon.
Smiled as he gave her a fix ; but there’d be a car around -Ok?
And he dialled a number turning away ,looking across the river at a different country
Where the band was playing Yellow Submarine Under a  gentle sun that gleamed up from the river ; as if on a rippling paten of gold
Which same river from her quay looked ragged , like a harridans shawl
Like a clinging stench that followed her now always

When she inhaled the dope the colour of the music changed
And the dangling threads of  fire shot to her very finger tips
And the song chimed in her ears and drifted across the river
-here we go gathering nuts in may -nuts in may
- here we go gathering nits in May
-On a cold and frosty morning

Then the car pulled up along the kerb ; hooted twice
But she turned away ,looked across the river  and saw her lost life;
And reaching out across the numbed out years , she heard the call of the Sarabande and  stepped off the boardwalk ,
And into the  watery womb of the  swirling river ;
And in the throes of her last cavort, she knew  the bliss of freedom
Awaited her  just beyond the  dark and  suffocating pain.

© Copyright 2017 donkylemore. All rights reserved.

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