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Dev Aug 2018
Treat the truth like a rubber-band.
I’ll treat a lie like super-glue.
Maybe then you’ll understand
exactly how I think of you.
Some may stretch the truth.
A Simillacrum Aug 2018
See where it gets you?
In the toilet bowl.
Open mouthed,
force fed remains,
gasping ****
instead of air,
grabbing at hair.
stop it stop it!

See where it gets you?
Wrapped up in business
never meant for
your energies,
fitting, in turn,
into crowded
papyrus.

Save me. Save you.
Save me? Save you?
Why?

Matter is finite.
I'm of it.
Build your empires.
Believe through the matter,
the
matter
of course.

I pick myself up from the floor,
and sweep back my soaking mop.
Stop?

Please.

I had a whole day
worse than tonight
just last week.

I'll enjoy my selfishness
while I can,
but thanks.
A Simillacrum Jul 2018
I quit smoking cigarettes.
Romantic ideations of death.
Thinking of the paper taste, now
brings me the same enjoyment.
Balmy, blue summer nights.
Cradled my audience of stars.
Laughing at the shape of waste,
they smile down upon me these days.
I don't know why I quit.
I don't know why I started.
Desperation. Depression.
Emulation? My grandpa, he waved
his hand with his fingers around bones,
tracing orange stories with his dead light,
of his would have been adventures
would he have had the time.

I. I.
I.

I don't have to die
soon!
I don't have to re
tire to my
tomb
to

spin
a tale.

I've been so blue.
Out of the loop
with my body
& my mind,
but,

I. I.

I still have the time.

I've been so stressed.
Forgot I could
depress the stress
button just
fine,

On my
own!

Now, when
I have ***,
I have the breath
for pleasure:

Oxygen.
George Krokos Jun 2018
If you’ve got a letterbox you’ll end up getting junk mail
which will usually be on a weekly basis and without fail.
_____
From "Simple Observations" ongoing writings since the early '90's
Seline Mui Dec 2017
Her anxious legs, her body feels the absence of the last smoke, the last snort.

She preps her shot thinking it will be boss but down the drain she goes.

She'll fight her mind, her body, her spirit, but doesn't know which way to go.

So her body decides, as she's screaming in her mind, let me go, let me go!

She preps the needle with the spoon as her priorities are left in the dust.

Everything ice cold but not that hole in her arm, it's slowly trickling out blood.

Seconds bring instant comfort, relieving her restless body and anxious mind.

She cannot bear the withdrawals that come along dragging her behind.

A sharp spear laced in poison detracting delicate skin to bruises and scars.

Unit, by unit, her shot dissipates and every inch of her eagerly awaits to embrace the rush of the high.

As time slips by, the high subsides and she is dry, all insecurities exposed in bare sight.

Panic..on the search..broke..fiending..stealing..robbing..lost loved ones..manipulation..broken promises..

The curse gets worse. It's meaningless synthetic comfort, the happy juice she can never refuse fills her receptors, a matching piece to fit the puzzle

The feeling can't be beat, a silent stream reminding her in her dreams creeping into the sunrise bursting with a desperate scream.

Worry and panic demands her full focus and the lies and deceit don't stop until fear of not having money has subsided. Begging and crying, playing the victim with no rest until she got her fix.

She's not happy, she feels dead. Synthetic pleasure breeds depression, and she's cannot function on her own, she disregards her responsibilities and continues to fail

Her presence overdue, regularly absent she won't pass, she'll miss out on every opportunity or simply won't care for consequences.

Dope is her only interest, where she pours all her energy and effort, she even proposed to forever be a servant, for what she loves most.

So much aggressive energy to remain living, guilt-tripping her lover into enabling her, she get's what she wants.

Time and time again until she drains his resources, with nothing left to give, he starves.

Confusion blocks her judgment as she believes the sickness is out to get her, but she has exhausted her funds too, tired of depending on her dope dictator, wishing to be free from the physical and psychological deterioration.

Her best friend ****** left her for dead, locked her in a cage kicking and screaming.

How much do you really love me?? Fight for me and score some more the funds to feed the fire, exhausted, not a dollar to my name.

Validate me, i'm what you need. I'll give you hugs and kisses, dreams of the childhood you never had.

Leave it all in the past because i'm the high that leaves you in a fragile state, mistake by mistake it's the price you will pay.

Near and far, nodding in and out, constantly chasing the dragon. Familiar pleasure filling the lungs provides the sense of stability blocking out pain and discomfort.

Oblivious to the vicious demise quietly poisoning your body, draining your youth as your life is dictated where the abstinence of dope exaggerates the sickness that overruns as you lose control of your life and question your purpose.

Losing touch with reality, addiction becomes erratic-out of control. You don't recognize the face in the mirror anymore, a slave to an demanding lifestyle draining you from the inside out.

Not sure your reason to keep living, hoping one day you can beat your disease never looking back. The day came, you're tired, you've given up, you need out. Looking back, you've accomplished not a single thing.

Only getting older with more expectations, forced to revaluate your progress, found out to be limited to none. You're so done.

Running with open arms into recovery is the only chance you'll succeed, and to breed your goals and dreams you need to believe. To put in your effort and defeat the beast thats waiting for the chance you slip up and bleed.

Take one day at a time, this is a must, far from simple , but you need to trust.

In yourself, a higher power, an inspiration, will be the motivation to reclaim your life back, claim true happiness, and become the best version of yourself
this is a poem about my personal battle with ****** addiction, hope you enjoy!
Politics and gain
Oh so vain
Have I ,would become

Offender and the offended
Are they same in the game

Where's the next bend
There seems to be no end

Mixed emotions
Run through the veins
Know not any retreat

A land unknown ,
No fear lays
Unknown, it forever stays

What if End comes
Untimely
I would be Ghost Writer
Please Read the lines
Nothing in between :))

Some odd thoughts
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