To and fro

Their minds are scrambled red by escape

With their needles of hope and deaths

Strung out through

Pitch black nights of hallucination

Dancing merry men

Tra-la-la-ing through the dunes

So tall and rounded

The granules of sand so small and dispersed amongst their comrades

With pills to pop

Weed to smoke

Steeped in the juices for stars and angels made devils to drink

To see

Seeing their friends killed and martyred by escape

Pushed up

On uppers

Swollen shut on downers

Pushed close to the ground

Its so hot

I can hear them sizzle

Fried eggs with their odor to resinate in my nostrils

Filled with a putrid stink

Of rotting corpses sitting

In front of me

Twinkle-eyed

Fixed on the ceiling

Arms stuck

A needle dangling from their arms

Mad men laughing

Women stark raving mad

Cackling to the moon

Dancing through the lunar light

Pulling them to and fro