A Beautiful Drug

A Beautiful Drug This Drug, became a habit, the habit became sorrow, the sorrow became a nightmare, the nightmare became change and loss the loss of – what beauty was imagined, has come to an acceptance, of a reality, a reality that existed from the beginning. Change, will not go easily into that black night. Chance, will not give up easily, not without a fight ! This grape, will not a raisin, become ! This ivy refuses to metamorphose into a chameleon ! The shadow, the door, the window, the drug remain alive, The life in them does not want to be shut out, shut down. The feeling though – is – it all dies on a vine ! The feeling is, in that inner space, it all - remains ?, the burial ground for change, for the future, the end of hope and dreams never seen. The essence of change, sometimes is a force so mean ! B. J. “A” 2 March 17th 2008