Tag Archives: addiction

The Taste Of Bad Medicine

Drag my hand behind you
Like a chain behind a truck
Sparks over your carpet while
I chase you through the darkness
Somebody’s supposed to fall in love
But nobody even calls; somebody’s supposed to…

~*~

If I held the gun that made your insides feel worse

Tell me, is it still a blessing or have I become your curse?

Your marionette body makes me fall apart again

After I’ve taken my prescriptions and adjusted my skin

.

I’m too selfish to taste all these abrasive chemicals

Forming newer lies at the tip of my pale purple tongue

So won’t you take them away and shatter up these brick walls

That’s keeping my sanity in, just another emergency man

.

In the bedroom floor where our breaths feel like the new testament

My tell-tale heart is still writhing and clawing desperately at the cement

You buried me in black and white, but all I could see is an endless blue

Starving for some modesty like it’s some unheard modern-day virtue

.

So break me away, I’m responsible for this reckless self-medication

Just to sleep and dream a little longer, just to find something to hold on

Because all I hear is anguished screaming from the other side of that door

And I could only listen so much to this overdose before I could take no more

.

If I held all the pills that made your insides feel worse

Tell me, am I your blessing or do I have to call up a hearse?

Your puppeted agony makes me fall apart, and then

I’ll take two and pass out just so I could call you in the morning.

~*~

Tear this place apart
Until you find me hiding, silently I wait
You’ll be excited just to see me someday
Everything’s okay…

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Chase Atlantic

For you, I chased down atlantic until it was drained and empty, consuming every last drop, and still, you were thirsty.

Xans, Oxy, gram, adderall, molly, vicodin, ketamine, codeine, amphetamine, heroin, every medication legal and illegal you selfishly overdosed on like it’s the sweetest candy, drugs and money fucking everything up, riding the waves, breathing in the ozone layer and craving the vaporous atmosphere, until all you could hear are birds singing at midnight and all your blank glazed eyes could see where pink shadows coalescing in the basement and the sound of your own synesthetic undersea voice, sewn up into crude stitches before it shatters soundlessly against the restless pastel ghosts; and you find out you were uncomfortably lying on your back in the bedroom floor all along, staring at the unlit ceiling dripping what you thought were your own tears but turned out to be rainwater, dial tone screeching your garbled songs, trying to call nobody at half past four in the morning, worn-down carpet igniting the smoke alarms with your interminable vices. I could only wish to hell that I was there to put it out.

There was a certain elegant delicacy in your tactlessly constructed words, soft beatnik aspersion and aggressive indie slurs romancing and entrancing my chilled spine, humming saxophone amid the alluring amalgamation of incoherent voices intertwining together into a strange, tangible, panicking tranquil. It was an art form in itself, inimitable, one of a kind, scattered accentuation your personal intricate signature. Every careless lilt about the dangerous pseudonymous girls you slept with last night, Angie, Cassie, Roxy, and the pill-popping pharmacists you’ll hold up with a gun as soon as the sun hits tomorrow. All these unsettling courtesies set in three parts of pastel grey and explicit roses, the dalliance and the nostalgia of everything, you were speaking in a foreign language only the truly sick in the head could properly understand, and the way you talked about all the mental pressure and self-esteem and choking anxiety so goddamn beguilingly, the way you talked about addiction as if you weren’t an addiction in itself, the way you just fucking aren’t, it got me overdosing on the panoply panache and sovereign shit on your bedside, but I was so into it.

How many times have you made my pulse beat when it was no longer mine? Every single afternoon, I wake up with a stabbing jolt like a guillotine’s rope pulled tight against my throat, gasping and desiring desperately for more, more of your prevarications. It was a talk show tactic, and you were the host telling me to talk slow and tell no lies, and I was your prize trophy, spilling my secrets and picking my battles cautiously, even though I knew that you were probably lying to me all along. The world was on your shoulders, angels hissing temptations under your skin, and we danced to the beat of your laughter and talked endless miles of film spiels about friends and no friends, gravity and good vibes, church walls and dancing in the dark with the devil, indiscretions and junkie stories high on adrenaline and dopamine, driving too fast and run over by the cops and swimming and thrashing in paradise until we’re so much higher than before, and everything was rhapsodic…until you hit the trigger and got me begging on my bleeding knees again. I’m scratching my nails, shivering madly, abusing my liver, and tearing the veins off my dead-ass heart as you killed my sanity, and baby I was only 23.

I’m obsessive. You said hold your breath, you’ll save me from the fading injections and we’ll run away right here to the underside of the world, and I won’t need to miss you and your anchor tattoo. And fuck it, but I believed all your twisted promises so fervently. I didn’t expect to fall instantaneous victim for such a scrupulous stratagem, this alternative relativity of drugs and parties not my accustomed niche, fucking up this whole thing. I was married to the screaming voices that serenade me everyday and haunt me every night, and I was theirs to render completely deaf into freedom; until you came out of nowhere and divorced me from the nightmares, and you incarcerated me—you made me even worse. You’re a psychopathic fringe wearing a smile on your face and holding a knife in your hand, you’re becoming a work of art. You don’t look too sane when you act like that, and babe, you won’t live too long with a mind like that. I was always fastidious about the taste of serotonin that I place against my lips, but even though it’s fire I’m kissing now, I’ve already been burnt, I fucking have. And I love counting the cigarette stains in my fragile marred skin, sepia-shaded nicotine tattooed permanently between my fingertips, branding me with your whispered name. My parents say I’m crazy, but I only wanna be buried six feet under your bed, ready to meddle about and smoke the cancerous stars away with you anytime. They say be rational about these things, but I stopped being reasonable the moment I listened to your drugstore symphonies and drowned in your cheap perfume. This chemical destruction is beautiful. I’ll keep it up, and I’ll keep riding the waves, crashing into you once more. And why stop at all? Okay is all I know right now. Mama I’m sorry, but reality’s boring.

For you, I’ll chase down atlantic until I’m drained and empty, consuming every last drop, and still, I’ll be thirsty for your eyes.

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metal & skin (xxxiii.)

it’s a banal addiction

it’s a hurting poison

it’s nothing but a self-indulged fight

it’s mindless, wrong

and they say be strong

but why does it feel so fucking right?

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Opioid Daydreams and Narcotic Nightmares

Maybe I could swim into your thoughts like your drugs do
Paralyze your body, sick and tired of waking up too
Burning eyes and cigarettes, I’m falling through the couch like
A suicide mission tonight, my god, here comes the downside…

~*~

The fumes I breathed in

Are as delicate as my polluted lungs

As frail as my state of mind

.

I look for a way into the dark

And step on cigarette ashes

Unaware of the inferno I might find

.

Crushing acetylene with two fingers

And heating the water a hundred degrees

To boil away this senseless rut

.

Inhaling, exhaling, once…twice…thrice…

And one more drag for the long run

Calm until the first punch hits my guts

.

My throbbing heart goes a’creeping

Into my trembling hands comes a’knocking

Painting butterfly psychedelia

.

I’m waiting at the foot of my deathbed

Staring at my lethargic lucid corpse

Tasting a million shades of phantasmic deliria

.

Anesthesised until I no longer feel myself

I no longer feel my broken bones

I no longer feel the pain like the ashes

.

Blowflies turned to pretty birds

Concrete floor turned to rainbows and raindrops

Until paradise wears off and slowly passes

.

But despite the exclamation points

Scribbled all over the blank walls, I won’t

No no no no no, I won’t ever ever panic

.

The blood and oxygen flow

Falling and reversing until my system

Is senescent retrograde and manic

.

And I’m hanging upside-down

On a cross, crucified by my lighter

Flesh pinned with syringes

.

Scourged and castigated

By angels and roman hallucinations

For my sins and perpetual binges

.

But I won’t die tonight, no I won’t

I won’t die yet…die yet, I think

And I’ll exalt those whorls of smoke

.

Submerged in a tempestuous sea of euphoria

Until I sink deeper and deeper into the hazy currents

And I begin to choke.

~*~

Trigger my nightmare once again!
And it’s fucking loaded in hand!
And we’ll let the fire rage
The smoke and the drowning flames
My bedroom computer light is the only
Menace to my new faux wooden blinds…

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Somaesthetics

Something filled up my heart with nothing
Someone told me not to cry
But now that I’m older, my heart’s colder
And I can see that it’s a lie
Children, wake up, hold your mistake up
Before they turn the summer into dust…

~*~

carry me through

what could have been

injections and evolutions

under jaded azaleas

full moon waltzing in

crests of hillside repentance

oh, how the violas sing

for the desuetude of their whim

is there a feather in flight?

or am i merely hallucinating?

answer not my inquiry

and let the mirages dream

in an adenochrome perspicacity

and cryogenic sunlight

as if the stars are a talisman

to your manic narcotics

they won’t steal a lullaby

simply so you can push back

the ocean waves with your palms

and set the branches on fire

no; if then, where will we be?

haunted by archaic conglomeration

of words whispered with your

carcinogenic nicotine lips

tasting the heroin with needles

and rusted safety pins

but lusting for the lancinating

ripples of wearied crucible

who knew addiction is so grand?

but like the allegories you

stabbed in the acheronian dark

and the promises that we’ve

sewn on our paper wrists

impediments and lassitudes

are but an oil burner in the cellar

whose arrhythmic flame

snuffs out with the damping

tempestuous breeze of your own scathed

somaesthesia and noiseless lungs.

~*~

If the children don’t grow up, our bodies get bigger
But our hearts get torn up, we’re just a million little gods
Causing rain storms, turning every good thing to rust
I guess we’ll just have to adjust…

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Confected Cycles

A caged throat

Screaming relentless

And fires siege

Tempting syndromes

Agony weeping

In a numbing addiction

Clotting misery

Blood and deathwishes

Sorry little lies

Killing every will to exist

I can’t complain

I know it will always end

Fucked-up like this.

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An Affair with an Angel

You know that, I’m a nightmare and I’m going crazy
You’re going nowhere so
I’m taking you with me (out of line)
This is what you get when you fuck with a classic roundabout
But it just might be me out of line…

~*~

Paying for intense fire that presents itself in metaphor

This is what you deserve for putting it out

Screaming fucking hell into a payphone call to heaven

Until the plastic receiver melts your mouth

Conflagrating under pyres that consent your affliction

That’s what you get for falling in addiction

Sending letters to dear agony signed in your own blood

Hoping for a reply, but it never reaches God.

~*~

I’m relentless
I’m relentless
I’m relentless!

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A Faltering Song

‘Cause I would rather spend my life
Vacations in bed with you
Li
ke drunken summer kites
And this is only a test!
S
ober and scaring me to death…

~*~

Say there’s been a mistake

I’m not falling under the sanctity

And separating my surrender

From poise of inevitability

I’ll never let the sirens tire

Screaming for my name in gold

Underwater over fire

Losing infinity against their hold

I have no right to be jaded

By your tireless serenade

If my skeletal past consumes me

I’ll be digging my own grave

I’m simply disoriented

Dizzy and voyeuristic, set to burn

I’ll say a prayer for casualty

And I’ll circulate all of your concern

I’m addicted, you’re a gamble

I’ll lose the spare evidence

It’s visceral, but I’ll keep it here

You’re the only part that makes sense

I won’t ever let change hang around

You created the sleepless skies

Honestly, I’m barely sick

Please extinguish the southern nights

I’m attracted to liquid colours

To your spectrum of stereo and ash

If the day arrives that I can’t convince myself

Then my wasted world is set to collapse.

~*~

They’ll never take us alive
(Can you chase away the darkness?)
To live in love and die—!

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Nevernote

This addiction

Is a starker violation

The vinyl record

Is scratched with words

The soft serenade

Hits me like a grenade

The notes I’ve cried

Makes a new song aspired.

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Withdrawals

I’m suffering

From lost actions

And drowning in

Failed distractions

.

In cold drip sweat

And lethargy

With painful lust

Tongue quavery

.

It’s like a drug

Placebo pills

And life’s a drag

Too close to kill

.

Even worse than

Cigarettes on

Alcohol and

Medications

.

Unsettled nerves

Sinking feelings

Rising up bile

Tastes sickening

.

Incoherence

Mumbles of black

I can’t do it

Let me go back

.

I’m fucking great

Just losing sense

Trapped withdrawals

From your absence.

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