Whispers,spoons and needles

Rituals unite and the needle does bite. Smashed to dust or dissolving with liquids might. Stirred undisturbed or a new method unseen. Straight point to nectar or from cotton that's lean. Thump, Thump let the bubbles rise. Patience unheard of in our eyes. Tie it off at its neck. Straight get it on with no flex. A taste in the back of the throat. Warming involved all through the host. Foggy vision and a vision blurred. A moment of bliss and nothing's heard. Rinse it out or toss it away. Depending on the night to make it through another day.Zoned in and now zoning out. A blast of that juice and winning the bout. No time to chill, relax or kick the fuck back.  Whispers, the spoon to the needle and I whisper back. A conversation that's all to familiar. Call me crazy but I'm wanting to kill her. I just did the last of what I had. Back to the grind that's all we have. A sad state of lonely affairs. Addicted to what's controlling, obsessive, And unfair. So I hit the streets and do what I do best. Nothing simple, nothing plain just surviving the dope quest. How long will she go, no body knows. A motherfucker I tell you, and I don't lie. I think of all that's lost but today I can't cry. For emotions are strangled,mangled and can't be felt. The power of this crystal has been dealt.Another bag, another fix, and still cycling like a teenage bitch. May God have mercy on me and them. Or at least give us strength to resist the temp.