Heroin Arms Poem by Charles Chaim Wax

littered with tiny
specks of blood
punctured
a hundred times
for the sake of
a Paradise
beyond pain
never obtained
yet sought
time and time again
still
he dreams of Celene
of her black hair
black as night
dreams of Celene
with her black hair
soft and sweet
dreams to flee
this god forsaken city
sewer of death
to Greece
Celene
in the sun with me
in the ever sweet burning sun
and rest in the night wind
the night wind
wind from the sea
upon the land
the golden land
shimmering
with wheat and melons
and something happens
happens to us
we would be happy.