__\::_screaming_for_mikey_:://["november"]

I took a bag of MDMA to the

Blackheath fireworks

and collapsed insensate

teeth chattering, my friends

propped me against a wall

and enjoyed the spectacle

of gunpowder like killers

I dribbled vomit into

my lap, my jeans

into a half-drunk water bottle

I saw someone drink from after

horrified and incandescent

with blame –

you fucking universe,

you low rent galaxy –

they managed to get me to

the pub for a pint of craft

stout, dark as tar,

before there’d been such a thing

like the time the landlord came

over and I’d taken a bag of

MDMA and I was laying in

the garden in underwear

and collapsed insensate

teeth chattering, my great

white back smothered in

mosquito bites and I could

not form a sentence

and listened as though from

very far away to my

friend tell him I was ill

and that we’d withheld rents

to ensure we retained our

deposits

and the landlord said

“know your limits”

it may have been a threat

or else directed at me

my intake

but I did

did know them

and disregarded them also

what good are our limits

other than as the waymarkers

to oblivion.