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richard-deykinPoems
****** Leaves My System Others — white and dark — Order their coffee in environmental mugs. You don’t get stars, Only reused syringes. ****** leaves as joy — A nub with no shadow. Trauma’s shadow is bright white In my pipe. Who says addicts are unclean? I scrape my pipe and cooker, Shockingly clean. I don’t get anything. UC tomorrow — Do you sleep sound? The rush — excitement. Why wrap so tight? Don’t break the crack in the pipe. Sounds like joy. Smoke fills my lungs. Yet I get nothing. In burning light, Where was my life? Vapor fills the room. Oh, there’s a feeling — I’m content. How about you? Could you ***** yourself a hundred times Just to feel a little? Stop — there’s blood in the needle. You think an ****** is good? You’ve never seen blood mixed with life in a needle. Trust me — don’t try. You miss all the shots you don’t take. Ones you don’t take can’t **** you. I wish they would — The ones that hit hurt more than the ones that miss. Well, ask him: ****** needle, arm — The true holy trinity. Just ask Jesus — Blood of Christ, blood of an addict, Redeem me. Needle exchange — Well, I need a life exchange. Maybe something sharper. Sorry, I meant to say spare change.
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May 21, 2025
May 21, 2025 at 1:33 PM UTC
I’m Leaves My System
****** Leaves My System Others — white and dark — Order their coffee in environmental mugs. You don’t get stars, Only reused syringes. ****** leaves as joy — A nub with no shadow. Trauma’s shadow is bright white In my pipe. Who says addicts are unclean? I scrape my pipe and cooker, Shockingly clean. I don’t get anything. UC tomorrow — Do you sleep sound? The rush — excitement. Why wrap so tight? Don’t break the crack in the pipe. Sounds like joy. Smoke fills my lungs. Yet I get nothing. In burning light, Where was my life? Vapor fills the room. Oh, there’s a feeling — I’m content. How about you? Could you ***** yourself a hundred times Just to feel a little? Stop — there’s blood in the needle. You think an ****** is good? You’ve never seen blood mixed with life in a needle. Trust me — don’t try. You miss all the shots you don’t take. Ones you don’t take can’t **** you. I wish they would — The ones that hit hurt more than the ones that miss. Well, ask him: ****** needle, arm — The true holy trinity. Just ask Jesus — Blood of Christ, blood of an addict, Redeem me. Needle exchange — Well, I need a life exchange. Maybe something sharper. Sorry, I meant to say spare change.
#addiction#recovery#mentalhealth#poetry#rawpoetry#honestpoetry#trauma#substanceuse#darkpoetry
Written by
richard-deykin
May 21, 2025
May 21, 2025 at 1:33 PM UTC
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