"methamphetamines" poems
Monroe Ave c. 2018, in my own dream land. K. Daniel's Revelation, cannot reverse what's starting to happen. Darker, more forlorn. No more bar and restaurant patrons, the streets are just a scattered herd of pestilence. No cars, the somnambules own the streets in silence. Honey dripping hipsters, years gone. ***** clothes, hair past their pearls. Asking for boy, asking for O.P.s, asking for girl, asking for crack, asking for methamphetamines. The only noise.
We lost the reclamation of the city our parents left. Escaping dead end cul-de-sacs of basement poverty, we no longer had to drive. Stacked with our friends in tenement commune. We delivered the body we consume in service, catering to a more privileged few. Only responsible for one when long work was done, I ensured my red blood's full of fun. We drank and inebriated with design when allowed more free time. But, darling, I think this town was already gentrified. We changed no thing.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
Still alive
But barely breathing
I searched but didnt find a meaning
My persistent heart wont stop its beating
I get high instead of sleeping
Finding veins to shoot some speed in
Countless hours ive spent tweaking
Im Just a ****** and a fiend
Playing victim
To a cycle so vicious
Hard to admit im the one who chose and picked this
Im on my own hit list
My lifes the perfect nightmare thats ever been scripted
my Memories play out in tragedies
Remembering saddens me
Ive been more stressed than any kid should ever be
And yet i never let them see
The Years spent living in denial
I want to cry but fake a smile
Something i learned as a child
They wont hurt me if i never let them in
I never learned how to get vulnerable
I just held it all in
Bottled up feelings
Never once expressing
How it feels inside my head
All alone no one knows me
Ive aways been a phony
Force feeding myself so im not too noticeably boney
I Cant cope unless im high
Needle full of dope until i die
My wills too weak to be freed
What was a want has now become a need
Im getting Paranoid as my track marks are getting harder to hide
My Blood thickens as it dries
Mar 16, 2021
Mar 16, 2021 at 4:45 AM UTC
In the sky there is a lonely star,
and in my heart there is a starless sky.
With the help of friends and methamphetamines
its been forty-eight hours since I've slept
but I am not tired.
Last night I laid awake on a lovely boy's couch
thinking of the moments we spent together
and I couldn't help but replay them in my brain
over and over,
hoping beyond hope for sleep
and you to share it with.
I guess I didn't see your scars,
blame it on the lighting or the beer,
but I knew they were there.
As my hands felt their way across your beautiful landscape,
I took special care not to rest them upon the raised, pink lines,
not wanting you, for even a moment,
to think the thoughts you thought when you created them.
I would tear my skin wide open,
stretch it across all the seas seven hundred times,
if it meant a single, tiny scratch would never find it's way onto your body with the guidance of your hand, the guidance of your starless night sky of a heart.
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 11:05 PM UTC
I’d be a fool to think
that it wouldn’t be problematic
to become emotionally attached to the
addict living on the other side of my apartment wall.
but worse than a fool;
I’d be a liar if I said
I don’t worry about him every single day.
I can hear your squeaky bathroom door shut, footsteps, drawer slam, microwave beep, hacking cough, door open when you leave for your hourly cigarette, door close when you come back, door lock, dry cough, music blasting cause you’re angry, t.v. on, light switch off.
and what I can’t hear, I can still picture, you lighting your pipe, your glazed eyes, you snorting, swallowing, dropping on your tongue; your wide smile, dimples, hair when it’s messy or pushed back; your tears, suppressed emotions, self-medication.
and what I can’t see, I can still smell, your distinct scent, **** mixed with tropical febreeze, 3 am chicken ranch pizza;
or taste, your lips, stale cigarettes, spiced *** on your tongue, fragile skin on your neck.
or still feel your silk hair, velvet skin, cotton bedsheets, the draft that leaks in through the AC unit above your bed, your touch, heartbeat, spine poking out of your back, cold shaky hands, heart drop, goosebumps, heart skipping beats, sick stomach, butterflies, my cold shaky hands, anxious worry, your words, the absence of your hand on my side…
the absence of you;
you as in the person I saw deep within those sap green eyes
in those moments I saw life in them for a only split second.
those few times you actually showed a human side of yourself;
a side of you that spoke apart from the drugs and beside the alcohol,
a side that wanted me.
I know I won’t be the one to save you,
considering that when I said
“I want to help you”
you replied
“I don’t need help” in-between sips of whisky,
before you took out out your pipe, pushed back the
vulnerable boy living inside of you
under debris of
methamphetamines, ******* liquor, LSD, etc….
how could I ever believe
that a boy lost in a dysfunctional version reality
could love me more
than he loves his drugs?
maybe next year I’ll live in a place
where the walls aren’t so thin
and I’m not in love with my neighbor,
or anyone who can love his bottle, pills, powder, and pipe more than me.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 11:42 PM UTC
sleeping pills
and flying over window sills
nicotine and mary jane
flick and then lighter flames
one for here and one to go
alcohol that over flows
ecstasy and acid dreams
lots of methamphetamines
piles of my razor blades
unsafe amounts of crack *******
oh Lord i might be dying
i dont care 'cause now im flying
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 1:03 PM UTC
Once, I had it bad for a girl
She let me play ******** music
in her living room,
and she had long brown hair.
she had a big *** dog.
it was a good dog,
nice to be around.
she was too.
I'm pretty sure
That they both
bit our bluesman friend
at one time or another,
but that's beside the point.
Once, we stared at each other for a long time.
Nothing really happened
Except that I fell into the chasm of her eyes,
And have spent every day since
Working my way up the cliffs
Outlined in shades of blue and green in her retinas,
a Bedouin for my affectation
and enamoration with the woman that I used to know.
For a moment,
I was even tempted to move into a cave in her mind,
But the spirits called me forward
Into the desert of my own mind.
It's been a few years.
She's in the embrace of methamphetamines now.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 11:37 AM UTC
My struggle with addiction has not only caused damage and destruction in my personal life but in my childrens lives if not more so then mine.
My own fear of not being good enough or not being worthy of my children was my reasoning in the process of self sabotaging and giving up
I lost myself in the methamphetamines
That was the reality of my situation failure to provide the necessities and to protect the well being's of my children
I ignored my childrens pain
I failed to notice their silent pleads for Attention
That is where I now come to understand
The reason
Counseling is truely necessary
I want to overcome this weakness
This fear ..
THE ONLY REASON I
Still have faith I can overcome and succeed is
Because
Jesus gave me the strength to
Overcome my fears.
I WILL SOMEDAY HAVE RELATIONSHIPS with my children
Maybe not in the near future but someday and that is good enough for me to continue to put forth effort in improving my situation every day
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 1:42 AM UTC
I'm a machine-
gun wielding ******
path of destruction
scorched by hatred
plumes of resentment
billow into the air above me.
Kidnapped
at an early age.
Given straps
and a surly rage.
I have a vicious commander
who wants to get even
so I find it odd
I should call him God
but that's the law.
My arms
an extension of his will.
My mind
an extension of his mouth.
I see my life chiseled in stone before me
it's defined by a maniac's brutal orders.
So in order to avoid misery
I embrace it.
My value is in violence
so I say carpe diem
and RPG them.
I mitigate my murderous misery
through ****** and methamphetamines.
Saccharine civilians deal with life
through hope and faith.
I resent them
for the life they've lived
for the hope they've maintained.
I wonder if their hope and faith will survive
after being ***** by a child.
Apr 18, 2021
Apr 18, 2021 at 5:04 PM UTC
accusation after accusation
about cheating and lying
is like the crossfire on a battlefield.
why is it that you and mom have to fight to communicate?
why is it that yelling to the point of a scratchy throat is your guys' goto to get a point across?
why does it always have to be a constant whirlwind of chaotic rounds of gunfire for you guys?
i don't know why you thought that abandoning us was the clearest thought in your clouded mind.
not just abandoning us for some other woman who was never worth the time,
but abandoning a wife who supported and loved you, for a woman who was less than a speck of dirt.
but also abandoning three kids who considered you as the other parent they no longer had, for a woman who couldn't see her own four kids because she would rather be including methamphetamines and other drugs in her life than her own offspring.
you abandoned us for a woman who made the fight for drugs, rather than the kids she gave life to.
there was a family you had left behind and kept waiting,
while you organized a mess of a life with someone else.
all i can say is how could you give up the life you built with us,
and damage it with her.
how could you make us flip our feelings for you?
i sat with my mother in front of the apartment you were staying at, at 10:45 after my shift at 10:00 at night.
waiting for you to take your dog because we aren't his caretakers.
yes, we loved him,
but that was your responsibility and we weren't going to take it anymore.
but as i go to knock on the window of your room because the door is too far away from your apartment number,
there are night owls of drug addicts peering through the window curtains.
but not answering the door.
i hate you so much when i should love you.
you were our parent when our father died.
but you left us the same way our father did.
the only difference is that you didn't die.
you left the same way he did because drugs stripped you both from us.
only that you didn't die.
not physically anyway.
just mentally, you're dead to us.
once a drug addict, always a drug addict huh.
i guess this taught us never to trust so easily.
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 2:55 PM UTC