Thursday, May 18, 2017

Addict (a poem written for an open mic)

Crawling from the petri dish we share
We stumble, (drunkenly) towards extremism
Every step coated in synthetic bliss
We walk
Among third-world ruins devoid of anything but subtance(s)
In search of our next fix
The best of us fall while some of us
Tie off into oblivion and
Sing songs about our solitude
The dope whores on the street
Are just an inch away from our youthful idealism

... Do I have a problem(?)

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