The red eyed, white knuckled, heavenly demon.
He loves me.
He is always with me.
The intensity of his influence is
always searing my eyes.
The inevitable death he brings, was born to bring,
is clouding the oceans of my nerves
with the ever-increasing reality of his existence.
Let me move on!!! Please!
Just let me be!
Your presence causes my development
to freeze.
I sit in a room
all by myself
shivering in the lucidity of my fiendish tendencies,
the realism of their infusion into my persona, and all that remains
is the voice.
His Voice.
His incessant whispering
owns my thoughts
like a cat owns a goldfish in a bowl
Cringing.
CRINGING.
At the idea
of what I know I about to do to
myself.
Headed to the black hole now
to get the soul thief.
The dull brainwashing diamond
that gives me a sigh
with just one slight
prick.
Prior is the apprehensive sickness,
The nut-clenching tension that
can only be cured by one sordid nadir.
Quivering.....
Shaking......
The one track mind
with a junkie’s focus thrown in.
The sweat pours down my trembling spine
as I rest in a state of catatonic despair
that will not be dissipated until
the fat is in the fire.
I know the monkey has grown into my back
a mixing of the protons and electrons
and now my soul fucks and walks like quasimoto
Hopefully I will shake the invading colors
before I am overtaken.
I feel it totalitarian presence looming.
And I fear it will eventually become all-encompassing
Leaving nothing to me but the frail vessel in which I reside.
5 comments:
so, how much of this, if any, is autobiographical?
and, if i may ask, what specific substance is being referred to here?
i know it's one of just 2 or 3, but i can't tell which.
and ya know what? it scares the hell out of me how much i relate to this.
other than the heat and the small hole involved, not my thing...but the rest...are you in my head?
rm
All of it is autobiographical. I used to have a SEVERE drug problem for about the last four years i lived in the dirty dirty. Although I havent had to deal with anything like this in a while, i still remember all the lonely nights locked in my room worried about nothing but shoving as much speed and H into my body as i possibly could. And this was a daily occurence. It is kind of the reason i moved out here, not wholly, but definitely was a huge influence. This poem is directed at Alcohol, which i still have a pretty bad problem with, Cocaine, which i try to avoid-sometimes, H, the devil drug, and the most embarrassing one being ze crank, but i dont fuck with the last two for anything anymore.
But mainly directed at ze crank, which is the one i had the most problem with.
No one ever catches the part about the hole- impressive. but shhhhhh
check your email, i'm sending you a relevant piece of art.
rm
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