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Diamorphine
The grit of the paper feels just like your skin rubbing against me, I'm bleeding again
Absorbing it's venom, hallucinogen. Contorting and exhorting through thin pale skin
My head is numb, my conscience devoid amid this terrifying run in with you my friend (fiend) against cold steel, a world opens up to things surreal
No sun,
Deaf ears,
Vacant eyes,
Silent cries,
Slipping under the undertow of heavy colors and sinking skies,
Such is this ordeal,
Sprouting into misery and flowering foundations of empty symphonies of mindless pleasure,
An escape,
A release,
Bittersweet is the taste left in the mouth,
How much is left to be believed as true?
As this cycle is set to start anew.
Style / type:
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity):
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words:
I wrote this after I learned that my great aunt passed from an overdose, she was known for heavy drug use and it ended up killing her. None was close to her because she always chose the drugs and refused any help so I was never close to her. I decided to write this because I have a lot of people in my life that have abused drugs and it just hurts to see it happen.
Editing stage:
Content level:
Not Explicit Content
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Comments
raj
Sun, 2020-08-09 05:16
Hi Young Poet
having read he last few words, i can say the pain and agony felt by your aunt is expressed vividly by you and perceived by a reader....may no one follow that path is what one wishes for...
be well..
raj (sublime_ocean)
Gracy
Mon, 2020-08-10 21:20
So sad, young poet, I can see
So sad, young poet, I can see that you felt empathy towards your poor aunt. I know, I've had members of my own family hooked on drugs. It finishes them, unless they're interned and have medication plus therapy, they come to a sad ending.
Thanks for sharing this poignant prose poem with us, all the best, Gracy
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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury
Candlewitch
Tue, 2020-08-11 14:16
hello,
very nice to meet you. I can see this poem from two points of view. mother was a pill-head. and I was a speed-freak in my younger daze. thankfully I got over it and myself. I view this piece of work to be extremely brave and honest. thank you for this, and sorry for your loss.
*hugs, Cat
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