The vicious venom wasn't poisonous to my veins anymore. My body craved the killers, the sleepers, the deadliness shoved down my throat. It hyphens my senses in the best ways. It numbs my feelings, stopping the piercing pains in my chest.
This victorious find has been the only good thing to happen since last September. I have lost my ability to write an impeccable meaning to heal my wounds. I have no use for sketching out my desires or picking fresh pieced words and lining them together in symphony.
This find keeps me alive, and unlike the writing, keeps me amused. When using my thick potions, I feel so stimulated, it's to the point of pure happiness. There is no anticipation, or uncontrollable crying that worsens with every ache.
My emotions are proudly turned to where I am freely myself and to the extent of not being afraid. I have no fear of someone coming along and torturing me once more, or something coming to take away what control I have over my head.
This find lets me stay out of the way, hidden under a rock, behind the crowd. It does not ask for my attention, or my time, or my liveliness. It just gives away a free pass to feeling good. And it's the best deal to receive.
YOU ARE READING
Spoken Poetry
PoetryThese are some poems of my own. They are about all different things. Some of them can be a little upsetting for younger readers.
