I am a happy, teetotal, sobre man. Sweeping my owns street, viewing my beam.
Splinters and Beams Stream of consciousness gleams under stark cover Agents of psychotropic delusion blur and distort White dust perforating a septum’s divide Snuffed cuffed to addiction and stuffed ‘You are your downfall as you trip on your ride’ Little pinpricks endorsing a festering skin Blisters of sinister conscience molested ‘Told you so that heroin sucks into abuse’ Meth crystals inhaled from a broken light bulb Reignited beaming gleaming from splinters ‘Serves you right you are the scum of the earth’ Magic fungus mushrooming the doomed mind From a domed cap on a stalk deluding insight ‘You deserve no better procured your decline’ Mary Jane weeding abysmal sativa salivating with pleasure bleeding a buzz stoned for the thrill ‘All that hippie stuff why don’t you get real’ Flawed dust - broken needle - splintered neon - Mouldy ingestion – disjointed joint - slushed drink I never chased the dragon but fell of the wagon Quite often imbibed left my shame bashed trashed Befuddled and resolved against judgement when I now Tend to sweep my side of the street sober and clean Your splinter is your chip your own fragmentation My beam is my joist my scaffold and my crossbar to level 15th April 2018
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.