Morphine

To be solitude, cut off, alone,

heart pulsing like blustery wind,

is death while living.

Thrown, Thrust, Tossed; abandoned.

Sitting in screaming silence. Alone.

Insides missing; left with bitter emptiness,

from the crude evacuation of the soul, violently extracted from the cavity of the chest.

It’s a jest, irony, kicking you when you’re down. Eat the dirt! Chew, spit, bleed n’ cry.

I want to touch you; to feel your skin against my finger tips: warm, plush, smooth.

You want me to touch you, to feel my finger tips against your skin: cool, silky, soft.

I cannot touch you, but if I could would it mean that I loved you more?

No.

To touch you would simply mean I could express it.

Who Cares? What means anything anyway?

Expression is interpretation is subjective, it’s too inaccurate.

Over thinking it and over analyzing. You’re obsessively obsessing. Stop. STOP!

Impossible. You compel yourself, frustrating and angering me.

I look around the room, through the dark and the gloom.

People everywhere, slumping, laying; motionless.

It’s the middle of the night, but no one’s asleep, but no one’s awake.

They’re dazed, in a haze, a fog of the mind. It’s a false sense of happiness for all.

The floor is gross, dirty, & gritty. I’m not wearing shoes. Where are my shoes? I don’t know. I don’t care.

How’d I get here? I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember? I’m too tired to think, I’ll try to figure it out later.

A shiver down the spine tingles me fully awake. My body hurts, I’m thirsty, so thirsty.

And I itch, it’s so uncomfortable, like wearing a wool sweater.

The smell, sweat and urine, it’s overwhelming.

I want to scratch and to move, get away from the stench, but I’m too tired, I can’t move, won’t move… I’ll stay in this couch groove.

Euphoric tease, like a flicker of light in the dark, the moon shines in the window, full and bright.

Sparkle and fade, it gives then steals happiness away.

Left in the wake of empty memory, void of reality.

Walking newly familiar paths alone, to a house, not a home. This place is strange.

I’m missing my thoughts. Lost in the maze of my mind. Silent tears stain my face.

Sink into habitual ritual,

giving into perpetual damning damaging desires.

To deal with the strain of pain by self-hating.

Letting the demon within command; guiding me by the hand.

Shut out the light; begin the inner fight.

Someone get the morphine,

I need to numb the scene.