Seperate hemispheres gone dutch
Right hand, left brain
Get another rush
Left hand, right brain
Get another buzz
Often it's a medicine
Keeping your eyes open
Or
Acting as a sedative
Fluids for the sleep
Leaves from a tree
Just to feel at ease
Quality time with capital T
Chain to stay awake
Or sleeping through the day
Non-compliance with how the doctor medicates
But its medicine that we take
Another party scene
Two in the last week
Hanging out, friends- with drinks
Maintaining relationships with THC
When my liver dries up
Or your brain goes to mush
You'll find out why we
Ingest all these things
And if the right could speak,
Would we more easily
Solve the left's mysteries of speech
And why you can't tell me what we really need
Categories:
medicates, depression, drink, drug,
Form: Free verse
Black and white blur to grey in this haze of non-existence…
this steady humming life flows smoothly down my throat,
medicates my need for greatness,
numbing my ambition to a dull acceptance.
Yesterday becomes tomorrow,
the unrecognized thud of passing days-
there’s really no difference between them anyway.
This small stack of words,
restless papers shift towards liberty,
a strange mix of intricate reality.
Would they understand?
Could my words slide into them,
resonate through beating hearts,
settle into the folds of their life without being forgotten?
These pages of my soul twist and burn in my hands,
aching for freedom from the fears which bind them.
My failure is inevitable, you see.
This from the burned out street corner poets,
crumpling the sheets in their dirty hands,
resenting my naivety—
why should I still hope,
when all their dreams are dead?
Categories:
medicates, introspection, on work and
Form: I do not know?