Alien Resin

Alien Resin: a short audio by Jack Drago

OG Alien, Spoken Word, Written and Recorded by Jack Drago

Just imagine for me:
The year is 2020, a man in a leather jacket wanders
a grimy, foggy mostly deserted San Fransisco
Past the vanishing pylons of an enormous pyramid,
through the gaps in a modernest sculpture he sees
A green neon light illuminating the fog down an alley.

So he ducks into the alleyway past a homeless man in a gasmask
and shows his ID to masked guard at the door,
stifling his cough as he is scanned for entry. “97.2”

The automatic door openes, and he is greeted by the clear air
and bright light within the clean, futuristic shop beyond.
“This is the OG Alien Live Resin” says the shopkeeper,
showing him a vial of amber liquid “91% pure”❤
“How Much for a gram?” — “$65,” he pays.
And walks out with the vial
in an anonymous brown paper bag in his pocket
out into the polluted fog,
lit by the erie green light
of a neon sign in the shape of an alien’s head.

He ducks into an even darker alley now,
where the homeless have pulled off their masks to smoke,
risking the epidemic and the polluted air with him.
And He screws the cartridge onto an electronic cigarette
made to resemble an old fashioned cigarette in a wooden holder,
complete with a light up end when he draws
And as it recognizes the cartridge it turns from red to green,
casting that eerie green glow again
out there in the San Fransisco fog,
just like what drew him to the shop.

He risks raising his mask a moment
to sample it illegally in the alley.
And for a moment all of it is gone,
the fascisim, the police brutality, the epidemic
for just one moment they elude his mind.
It is as good as he could possibly have dreamed.
Well worth risking the riots of the city.

“How good of the government to legalize this,
at such a trying time” he thought to himself
as he furitively pocketed the E-cigarette in his jacket,
pulling up his mask against the acrid smog.

And as he rides the moving staircase down into the subway…
scrubbed shockingly clean of its perpetual grime
he waits for the shiny new train back to the suburbs
As the sleek and modern train approaches,
Disconcertingly utopain, scrupulously clean,
with its touch screens that no one dares to touch.
as if borrowed from a better future
that somehow felt like a distant dream now,

as the electronic voice blared out its words:
“The centers for disease control reminds you…”
he quietly boarded the train for home
having had his fill of the apocalyptic city
and all of its temptations and risks
Satisfied with his purchase,
and ready to enjoy the weekend.

Author: Jack Drago

Porn star, webmaster, and hypnotist