Morphine Dreams: Poetry

I've got this demon,
a monstrous itch
I open my mouth
and morph into a bitch


Yet my heart cries
for something that's
not there, reaching
out for love and attention


There's nothing sane
about the way I think
I'm all black and dark,
forever hating pink


But I don't love myself,
I feel trapped as if
I'm in a prison and
the warden just
won't let me out


What do I do with her,
this entity that I see
Dressed in black
from front to back
staring back at me?


I'm fed up,
I get fucking
tired of waiting,
life keeps moving slowly
to a beat that's not my own


How do I incorporate
something I keep inside
where no one can look
save into a book
to spy the dark I hide?


It makes me tired, man
this endless list
of litany
going nowhere,
solving nothing,
just as pointless
as a sentence fragment
and not nearly as
intriguing


I've got withdrawal
from the morphine of my dreams;
They haunt me like nurses
I only have to beguile
to get my way
But once that pinprick bliss
is in my veins,
I'm scrambling to get
away from it
Because these visions are
too beautiful
for my eyes to take


In the end
it doesn't matter anyway
because I'm still an
addict to my own
brand of nirvana
that keeps me high
but lets me crash
one idle day at a time...

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