#vicodin
vicodin is a long term friend
with a warrent for my liver
and my life.
1:43am
we had an appointment
and god only knows
i could never be late for such
a chalky sense of closure.
and the young paramedic
who burst my vein and scolded me
could only pray his words
meant more than the hum of streetlights
as my body exchanged existence
for the embodiment of thought
and a brittle concept of my phrenic nerve
which was never more at peace than when
my lungs remembered the luxury
of standstill traffic
of weighted morals
of crushing insecurity's release
and the resulted ballooning
as squashed egos cry, and the garage door screams as it's yanked open
horrid sounds and tortured motion on both accounts
spiritual cataracts torn free
commercialized visions now blur
as the orange bottle morphs from
vicodin to paracetamol
equalized views in my bloodstream
as the sheet metal ceiling shifts to plaster tiles
to a TV set
to a bathroom mirror
to an agonized woman next door
to the back windows where my mother cries where no one but the whole world can watch
to a blue plastic mattress and a first floor window covered with bars
to a pale green day room with a caged TV
where there was bleach in the stomach of a nine year old
where the dying took their resurrecting breath between games of spoons
where the hinges screamed and blood pressure was taken three times a day
this where the living came to kiss death goodbye
until next time
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 10:09 PM UTC
The painkillers in my pocket rattle
with each step
toward the unreachable moon
in strange harmony
with the untainted snow
crunching
beneath my feet.
Two or three
aren't enough to numb me
anymore,
no longer enough
to shut my brain off
for a little bit...
to quiet these thoughts
that stalk me
and whisper
how no one would find me
if I just lay here
on this nameless road
with a mouth full of pills,
face to the stars,
and die in the arms
of a snow angel
who'll carry me away to a heaven
I only believe in when I'm high.
I squeeze the bottle in my pocket
almost to the point of crushing it
as I turn away from the wind
and look back at the light of
my grandpa's cottage
drawing my attention
away from my midnight daydream
and the moon
that hangs like a sliver bullet
stained with the blood of monsters
from my mind.
How many times
have I walked this path high
praying to God's gleaming eye
for death,
as it winks slowly
with darkness
as if indicating something
beyond my comprehension...
All I know is
the cottage is warm
and I should go back.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 4:52 PM UTC
After your death
I'm rummaging through the drawers
for your bottle of Vicodin
hoping your ghost
isn't watching.
Why can I never stay clean?
Is it because I'm weak?
I see myself like your husband
in 20 years
a tired young drunk
sick of feeling old,
who died before his grandchildren
were even born.
I hear footsteps in the kitchen
and wonder if it's you
hiding them from me —
but I hear lots of things
when the floor beneath me
crumbles
and I'm left dangling
from my barbed sanity
with ****** hands.
I swore I'd keep it locked away,
this heirloom of addiction,
but right now I need to hold it
and feel it
because I miss you
and I'm not strong enough to accept the fact
that you're gone
just yet.
So far this is the only moment
I've told myself you're not here,
when I find and swallow the last
three pills
that couldn't stop your pain,
then wash them down with gin
that wasn't enough
to stop mine.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 3:44 AM UTC
You don't see me but I am
There, I have numerous ways
To take you,
Hold you,
Control you,
You'll not even know
I was there,
I am a conqueror of flesh.
Feeling...
Sickly, siphoned, strained
Both body and my brain
Doctor said it's just a cold
Nothing but a passing pain
Is this hypochondria,
Or is there something in my veins?
Your insides are my playground
To cause you much anguish & pain
I'll infect you slowly at first,
Have a little fun within your
Organs
Muscles
Thoughts
I aim to control, invisible
To the eye, but you know
I'm in here, your losing control.
Today I coughed up blood
Cold sweats come in floods
I'm drowning in my own bed
As I clutch my feverish head
There's an inferno in my skull
I'm taking Vicodin to null
Whatever it is eating at me
I know I'll be better in a week.
You apes think size is intelligence,
This was your undoing from the start,
I replicate myself, as its my time to move on,
I leave apart of myself here
As its time too
Infect
Multiple
Spread
My gift to those around,
You sneezed
You coughed
Upon your sweat, I am
Now on everything you touch,
Time to end the play,
"Business calls"
Be Proud of your self
Patient Zero, dear human
You were my first,
But its time for me to move on...
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC