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Dec 2016
The skies are laced with narcotics,
I am spinning, spinning out of control,
Lost in the vastness of the milky way.
I feel the nicotine rush with every breath.
I am a broken record, that you still listen to, over, and over, and over again.
I am your aesthetic, your cure.
But what you don’t see is the typewriter clatter in my brain.
You don’t see the scrawled handwriting of who I used to be,
You see a staged version of me. I select the nicest light for viewing.

The skies are laced with narcotics,
I am spinning, spinning perfectly in control.
Clutching the wheel for dear life, drowning in my eternal darkness.
Not even the stars light my night sky, not even the sun lights my days.
Just the light of a match, that ignites and falters all in one motion.
A burst of brightness in my otherwise dismal life.
You cannot see the darkness because you are the match.

You are a fleeting moment of beauty,
Painted on a celestial canvas,
My hands the brush and your skin the paint that we use to dot eternity.
Your eyes are my stars, two gleaming orbs of pure ecstasy.
As I peer into them my darkness is reflected
I look further and all I see is the haze of politics and cigarette smoke.

The skies are laced with narcotics
I am spinning, spinning out of control,
Lost within my own emotions.
I am your poison, your cancer.
My eyes are clouded judgment and disapproval.
You are the apple in my clouded judgment and my disapproval.
You are my aesthetic, my cure.

The skies are laced with narcotics,
I am spinning, spinning out of control,
Lost in the vastness of your eyes.
And I am unable to calculate our next move.
Unable to plot when we shall return to one another.

For, I am floating down a path,
Not the one of least resistance, but one filled with obstacles.
I am not neat, I am not pretty. The inside of my head is a thunderstorm.
My thoughts mere raindrops and my emotions rolling thunder,
Because of these things I cannot commit myself to you.
Because of these things I am lost.

The skies are laced with narcotics
I am addicted.
I appreciate all feedback, positive and negative; I very much want to become a better poet, so leave comments, please.
Gabriel S Wensley
Written by
Gabriel S Wensley  New Hampshire
(New Hampshire)   
314
 
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