Suicide Unrecognized

He said he'd been dry
for nearly three months, but
she could see his palms sweat
as he rubbed his hands together.

Dark eyes glazed over,
sunken and shallow. They were haunted
by speed and nervousness in denial.
No longer able to grasp reality,
his attention was diverted
by glistening artifacts; even
their animated words
could no longer hold his attention.

Each moment swung like a pedulum
from extreme euphoria
to wallowing in dire devestation.

Something dark,
but ever so tangeable
was more important to him now-
even if it would kill him.

by Stephenie VanCampJones

Other poems of VANCAMPJONES (17)

Comments (1)

Now that is an insightful piece. Cutting and moving. Well caught.