deepundergroundpoetry.com
Memory Lost
You gauge my feverish eyes,
Sick-to-death,
And you hide the medicine
And you serve the meth
A million hours
A million jokes
A million laughs-
All for naught
Sick-to-death,
And you hide the medicine
And you serve the meth
A million hours
A million jokes
A million laughs-
All for naught
Published 22nd Feb 2017
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comments 6
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Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
22nd Feb 2017 2:22pm
This is such a heavy write in such brevity, wandering one. A life whose pinnacle purpose was to lounge amid the stars, grounded by a dealer's drugs.
22nd Feb 2017 3:03pm
22nd Feb 2017 4:43pm
Not as long as there's breath, my friend. As long as there's breath, there's hope.
22nd Feb 2017 9:49pm
22nd Feb 2017 2:32pm
Don't look for that which you can't grasp... look towards snd within the journey you've taken to ascertain what that means.
Perhaps, therein, lies the answer. 😎🌻🎈
Perhaps, therein, lies the answer. 😎🌻🎈
22nd Feb 2017 3:14pm
Perhaps so. So the answer, perhaps, lies in appreciating the sacrifice made to attain the art of comprehension? (Is that it?)
