My last tenner.

Lying in bed, shivering, sweating. The last tenner I own keeps my back pocket wondering how to spend it.
Stomach says food , "  Sod it! " subconscious tells ya.
Pull on yesterday's clothes. Tenner still burning a hole in ma pocket, never mind ma heid.
No credit on phone.
Need to walk in to town just to find a dealer, and all that I speak to say later on.
Later on is no use. Still the cold sweats run down ma back, like a cascading waterfall cascading into the crack of my arse. Stomach feels as empty as DavyJones locker. Eventually I see what excites m
Dealer. Give cash to runner, he runs off like a whippet...back within 7 Min. With charge.
I eventually get to my front door n' prepared my charge. All ingredients are in my spoon. My hands are shaking  so bad. Syringe in hand. One goes to suck up the coffee coloured liquid.
Careless as I was then , I spill the lot.
Raging, I go back to the sweaty pillow , back to the nightmares I suppose.
Not a great day, so much grief .  No drugs no fix.
So much for ma last tenner.