Diamorphine

The grit of the paper feels just like your skin rubbing against me
I'm bleeding again, Absorbing it's venom, hallucinogen
Contorting and extorting, exhorting through thin pale skin, my head is numb, my conscience devoid amid this terrifying run in with you my friend (feind) against cold steel, a world opens up to things surreal
No sun,
Deaf ears,
Vacant eyes,
Silent cries,
Slipping under the undertow of heavy colors and sinking skies,
Such is this ordeal,
Sprouting into misery and flowering foundations of empty symphonies of mindless pleasure,
An escape,
A release,
Bittersweet is the taste left in the mouth,
How much is left to be believed as true?
As this cycle is set to start a new.