POEM
JunkNEW YORK, NEW YORK 11 October 2011 |
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If Life were a drug, it would be illegal,
Scheduled somewhere in between Viagra
And Heroin: dangerously addictive, invariably
Fatal, capable of causing its users to do
Just about every dumb thing that can be done.
It directly causes not only cancer, but
Suicide and murder, eating disorders,
Post traumatic stress disorder, shingles
Even postpartum psychosis.
My Life habit forced me to shuffle
From apartment to apartment, blinded me
To everything but the overwhelming
Necessity to keep waking up in the morning,
Keep breathing, keep carrying on
Just to do it one more time.
This itch for Life kept me hopping from bed
To bed, leaving nothing but broken homes
In my wake. Life made me spend twelve
Long years without a job, made me
Imagine that I could play guitar, then
It made me pawn that guitar repeatedly
And paint my bedroom walls black.
It made me gain weight, smoke countless
Cigarettes, go grey. It even gouged
Lines into my face and loosened
All my teeth. In the end, I have become
Just another Life junkie, itching
For an everlasting fix that I know
Will never be pushed my way.
You see people like me on the street corners,
Under highway overpasses,
Even on the highways themselves, weaving
In and out of traffic at incredible speed.
Beware. We will do anything to stay alive.
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i like this poem. alot.. so damn real it scared me.. damn, that’s me..
well done!!
Whoa… Intense and brilliant. So spot on it’s painful to read.