Junk runs rampant.
Inject feeling into veins while world
escapes through eye sockets.
Inhale relief.
Death comes closer with every breath.
Pressure building inside
undaunted, unchecked,
until brain explodes.
What now?
What next?
Gotta get more
Need another fix,
another bowl.
Smoke saturates
hotbox hideout.
Breathe deep.
Find sanctuary.
Contemplate spiritual visions
through acid haze.
Internal demons wreak
constant havoc.
Urges consume ego.
Senses dulled,
wisdom lost through
ether daze.
Puncture wounds inhabit
secret places no one sees.
Please end.
Must stop.
Where is the syringe?
Author notes
wrote this after seeing the sculpture of a friend's sister @ a small gallery. it was a holloween show and pretty dark, so that kinda explains my train of thought...i guess...
What did you think
Comments
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Great read!
I like taut powerful poems such as this. I can feel the despair and the grip that addiction has on the addict. Great job. If you have time,perhaps you would read my poem on the same topic, a sestina entitled "Falling and Forgiveness"?
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Wow. Beautiful images, strong feelings. I adore it.
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the concept was magnificent and the erratic structure further exemplifies the disarrayed thoughts of the individual. Also the bacvkground was appropriately depressing. Though you may just be writing what comes to mind, in this case it's perfect because it's not supposed to flow. Great work my friend.
Keep penning!
~Inc"
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