The Drug-Life

The scarlet snare of crimson blow;
The tangible symbol of all things repressed and patterned;
The cool sack of confusing liquid at your belt,
Never leaving your side.
Among all else, an invitation-
To drown in luxury and despair;
A desperate requirement-
A craving of that which makes us fools.

Asleep; unsure of the worlds around you.
Patronizing, antagonizing, are the humanoids-
Whom swarm around the unspeakable truth:
That which impresses fear in the hearts-
Of the ignorant.

One glare of eye, or accent of silence,
Showing none other than a nightmare.

Accursed lack of perception-
Sheltering, shielding from the blinding Sky.
With repetition as your sword,
you smite the light.

Comfortable in nonsense-
As reason is as salt in your impure,
Eternal;
Self-inflicted wound.
And just as salt purifies,
So your number on wisdom is filled with coal.

by Rowan Welch

Comments (1)

An insightful piece of drug addiction written with clarity of thought and mind. A beautiful creation. Thanks for sharing Rowan and do remain enriched.