Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dalton Rees Nov 2015
Glossy-eyed children taste toxin-doctored water from plastic red cups
as popular hits of the day intertwine with impure intentions and blind approbation
for strangers-
obscured within the cherry-colored lenses of Dionysius’s shroud.
-
A languid form stumbles though an ocean of slurred words and victorious howls
Into a water room with four walls, a broken door, and a single reflective glass, sounds of the century now low and intertwined with the domestic petting zoo steadily beating against the door
Still broken.
Tired eyes through orbital vision and a weary process of cognitive recognition
Finds within the glass a conception of self, foreign to the observer and comically out of place.
Segmented ideas find meaning in convoluted streams of thought as the spoken word
Is devalued and meaning is limited to fain attempts to *** a smoke, bro.  
Radiating self-righteous belligerence and misattributed
Bravado-
the two-dimensional protagonist clumsily plunders the kitchen
for processed sugar bars and handfuls of stale Wonderbread
before projecting discarded toxins into the potted plant near the high-traffic doorway while snapback youth formulate attributable hashtags and millennial responses to
a situation typical to the time of uncertainty and blissful absence.
Come morning, we’ll eat scrambled eggs in sunlight
And romanticize about a Kodak experience, now elapsed by a self- more stringent.
I found myself observing Greek Life from the inside, recognizing a truly disappointing atmosphere bumbling to the tune of cut-rate light beer and the stalest of personalities.
Harry J Baxter Nov 2013
forty ounce of miller happiness
the champagne of suicide
cut it back
smoke a pack of camels
smoke another
buy another
only fifteen bucks,
**** it right?
7-11 buffalo chicken rollers
to soak up the chemotherapy
track marks from the lighter burns from the space needle injections
smoke a **** pack
then another
then another
and re-up on GB's until the room starts to carousel
now onto the ****** fratboy lime-a-rita's
**** the 12'er
then it's hard stuff
like george dickel, cracken, and Jameson
still able to count the toes on your feet through your shoes
then add another witches brew to the cauldron
go out armed with three good friends and a knife
pavement pavement pavement
ladies
strangers
strange women
conversation
the most addictive drug of them all
take the shotgun in the mouth
and feel everything pop black
wake up next to a faceless face
send her home
go to work
write a poem
do it all again

— The End —