Poison

Words, pour
A ceaseless torrent of
Hate, flows
Into my mind and I
Can't, get
Free from the source of the
Poison.

Words, fly
Out of the deepening
Gloom, land
Bouncing around where my
Feet, tread
Tipped with a black dropp of
Poison.

Words, hidden
A muttering under their
Breath, whispers
Echoing from root to
Root, rumour
Sapping my strength like a
Poison.

Search through the weeds,
Burn all the seeds,
Stop the spread.

I stand and I stare,
Who could have known?
The needle lies bare
Nestled in my palm,
Mind screams for more,
Fevered by addiction,
Breaks down the doors,
Performs the injection.

Words, fade
Into a murmuring
Lull, needle
Drops from my hand with a
Crash.

Who could have known?
Who could have known?
I was killing myself with the
Poison.

by Stuart Doggett

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