A cold medicine fog in the head
served over the counter with a kiss
still pales in comparison to the tryst
enjoyed while dancing with drugs
during our roaring twenties
when prescriptions were never sought
because they could be filled
by friends without degrees
to alleviate the suffering and agony
temporarily one dose at a time.
It’s not the same game being played any longer
in these middle-aged years of wisdom
when detached peace has been achieved within
even while tragedies befall the world at large.
Double-edged crosses and encoded helixes
scratch the surface of DNA with a scalpel
to trigger the gene reflex of renunciation in cells
as sanctioned programs drift across television screens.
Woe be to the harbinger of chaos
who arrives on the scene and discovers
that the prophecy he’d been tasked to announce
already came to pass without much effort.
Fallen cities mirror the burning blood
sloshing with designer chemicals concocted in labs
that are pushed to birth a placated future
where pretty neon lights pulse us all to sleep.