trigger warnings : drugs
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holding my nose closed tight with a finger,
and a tube shoved within,
so that white powder can linger,
and then the fun can slowly begin.
But its not so fun,
when you begin to rely,
at least not as fun as when you begun,
and now you just simply comply.
doing whatever you can to feel nothing,
to create that empty feeling,
or at least create SOMETHING,
instead of just staring at that ceiling.
A plastic bag placed on my nose,
huffing that sweet scent,
so i can forget all those bad bad lows,
and all the money i spent.
and no one warned me how easy it is to get high,
on the random things in my room,
so i can just simply get by,
ignoring the fact i'm tempting doom.
another new saved contact on my phone,
who is he?
i don't know.
just leave it be.
i'll pluck up the courage to message soon,
asking for a gram or two,
so that my head can swoon,
so i can just begin to get through.
but look at all the money i've wasted,
and the feelings i've created,
from trying to get faded,
and all the thoughts i've debated.
and i'm desperate to relate,
to find someone who feels the same,
even though i'm beginning to contemplate,
without ever letting myself take the blame.
and it seems nothing will fix,
the longing within my chest,
the drugs will continue to mix,
and its all beginning to get even more messed.
YOU ARE READING
Kalopsia.
PoesíaKalopsia • Noun ; The state in which everyone and everything looks beautiful. ✧一 一一 一一 一一 一一 一一 一一 一一 and here the words will bleed onto the page of each separate chapter in my mind, and the words will fall so effortlessly out of my eyes. 一 一一 一一...
