VII.

Riding the Blood on a

Chariot of Crank.

The camel and I crossing this abyss

came upon a chariot promising bliss.

I strapped in, camel pulling the tank,

got off on a chariot of crank.

I was away riding the blood.

Bliss overwhelming me like a flood.

Riding on a chariot of crank.

On the stuff till my mind went blank.

So alive and awake day and night.

Chariot oh, a dizzying flight,

methamphetamine satellite.

In bliss too long to notice my plight.

One day I noticed that I never ate,

and I stayed up more then just late.

Eating and sleeping were just forgot

while riding on the crank chariot.

Waking life changed into a dream.

I was immortal it would seem.

I was alive high in the head

wondering if I could be dead.

The ride continued, the mind played tricks

with sounds and visions and perceptions it picks.

I rode on till my blood stank.

Riding the blood on a chariot of crank.

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