~a collection of poems inspired by the bbc show sherlock~
i've recently been obsessed with this show and writing poetry so boom here are the two together.
*spoilers, duh*
He shoved a needle in his veins and felt the world slip away. The torment of his mind muffled by the chemical castration of such a glittering liquid. The worry they would find him strung out dissolving like cocaine to blood. Like senses to the mind. Like touch as he's shaken awake. It hurts to know they care because every ounce, kilo, and gram of him does not want to. Does not want to love or think, what it must be like for the simple minded who live life every day so unaware. People say he can't feel, so entranced in the brilliant cold calculating façade. Mind over heart, job over life. But the truth is he felt too much. From the day he scoured the dictionary to find a word that would describe him to the moment that needle pierced flesh, he felt too much. The crushing weight of societal expectations, a courtesy he never understood, a box he never fit in, and a love he could never have. Love. It was the thing that kept him sober most days, knowing he wanted to see the man who defined it in sharp streaming color, In soft violin music and heart pumping adrenaline. But. But he doesn't want to think about what happened, about the death of them, how he was lost to another. He just wants to shove a needle in his veins and feel the world slip away. So he does. A second and a third time, he makes a list but doesn't count. Loving in the reckless haze of it all, enjoying the physical way it rips apart his life like the needle to skin. And he wonders, will this be his last. Will he slip into a comatose wonderland of which he can never return. Push down, liquid to skin. And he wonders, will anyone care. Will he care?
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