Have you ever eaten a caramel apple
and not gotten pissed off?
I know I sure haven't.
They look so good in the window,
the perfect staple to a day at the fair
or something, but hardened caramel
is the "edible" equivalent of plaque
that cements itself to your teeth
in the least romantic way possible.
The caramel in heroin literally and
individually rapes every blood cell.
It only feels good because of
Stockholm Syndrome.
But that only applies to needles.
When smoked, heroin flows
through your throat into your soul
like an evaporated river
of caramelized potential.
When rivers go rapid and rogue
Mother Nature can't stop laughing.
Their gallons of imperialism proudly
f uck up the land like termites swarming
a branch, it's cute to her because
she tap dances on branches for fun.
When smoked, heroin is better
than a river in the natural world
since it can f uck up whatever it wants
without making anyone laugh.
Note: I am aware that I technically used the word literally incorrectly, but it's intentional for the voice of the poem.
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