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Euphoric Inferno

You knew to grapple with my conscience
scrutinize under your third eye
running analgesia
through my gastrointestinal tract
eluding a precarious mind

Could this be a temporary cessation
of compos mentis
the white pills have contrived?
or is our antagonist just a oppressing narcotic
Crushed sedatives in chalky white lines?

Well, opiates.
Let the intravenous rush through my bloody
Vessel
Let it buy me time
For now, the comfort of being numb
Appraises this self inflicting crime

Author notes

shedding light down the rabbit hole

dedicated to the drugged dreams
the sexual frenzy, the struggle between flaccidity and staying hard.
-the selfishness to stay sedated,
to numb what you can't fix.
introversion , oppression of those white pills
they call Dilaudids, *8mg . . .

to Klim, estranged lover, ex friend.
I'll miss what I've known
looking through those blue eyes.
but it's better to let you go.


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Comments


  • Lowell Poe
    October 4, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    Shes a poet,
    shes a picker,
    shes a profit,
    she's a pusher,
    shes a pilgrim
    and a preacher,
    and a problem
    when shes stoned.
    Shes a walking contradiction,
    partly truth,
    and partly fiction.
    taking every wrong
    direction on her lonely
    way back home.

    Life is a carnival lass,
    go on all the rides
    while ya can.

    This was done so well it inspired me to write about you.
    Your comments on my work are valued ten fold knowing what a fine writer you are.
    My Irish grand ma used to tell me...
    LOWELL!!

    Write something grand,
    for you may be
    entertaining Angels,
    Unaware.

    She was always right.

    Bless you always child,
    LOWELL POE


  • Silenced-Shadow
    March 16, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    hmmm a well writen poem, hang in there, the bad times cant last forever, no matter how much it seems not true.
    a very emotive poem


  • Grimoire
    March 13, 2008

    Edit | Reply

    I CAN RELATE

    The letter M inside a square box on one side
    on the other side is simply etched the number four
    I've swallowed my soul to make it seem justified
    & taken that gallop towards Death on a white horse.

    I, too, am an addict (recovering?)... substitute coke for gin, or speed for glue, the ritual and habitual is a pattern of madness. I have entertained the notion that self destruction is something I provoke purposefully, with every intention of making it as thourough as possible.

    Hang in there. I am not a hipocrite, so I am not gonna offer advice...lol

    until exhale,
    Grimoire