Poetry archive from the mental hospital

For the addict (i love you)

You colored my heart with poison.
Radish red rhymes soaked my mind as a child.
And they persist still: a relentless fight
to embalm my body with hate.
But no bones have been preserved. I think
I have tasted enough of life.

It dries my tongue like discarded kindling for the fire of a life
that should have been. My head throbs with a craving for more of your poison.
Each day I think- I think
about the pale lillium child.
I once looked like her. I knew not how to hate
my own being. I was blind to the fight

I would come to face. This fight
is a war between the poles of my brain. One side calls for life,
And the other side speaks fluent hate.
Like how sunshine poisons
winter, and the child
weeps for gifts. I think

of you as an angel. I think
of you as my demise. My knees buckle and surrender the fight.
I hear locked away shrieks from the child
behind my eyes. I want to sink my teeth into life
without being choked by it's poison.
It is not you that I hate.

Or you. It is this poem, my reflection, and my voice that carries hate.
I think
you're cruelty is lovely. There's nothing sweeter than your heart's poison.
I feel your eyes probing for a fight.
Are you content with your life?
Or do you still long to be or have a child?

Herr Lucifer cannot conceive a child.
Such innocence will refuse to be tainted with hate.
Call me Herr Enemy. This life
is my shattered showpiece. To think,
that I once tried to fight.
Now I am drunk from your poison.

Finally, the poison brings the end and I am closer than ever to the child.
This isn't a fight against  destruction. It's a dance of hate
to the music of life. Sit down, have a drink. Think of your spilled out life.