deepundergroundpoetry.com
Drunk & Selling Nintendos At 12 pm
Dead are thoughts wet with static
Empty bottles echoing silence
He searched for solace
lost in the translation of "happiness"
Thinking it really does come in pill form
or whatever pseudo dreams he could chop & snort
It numbs faster that way
when you're always fiending for the next distraction
Medicating misery
& calling a casket your home
( R.I.P. Chris )
Empty bottles echoing silence
He searched for solace
lost in the translation of "happiness"
Thinking it really does come in pill form
or whatever pseudo dreams he could chop & snort
It numbs faster that way
when you're always fiending for the next distraction
Medicating misery
& calling a casket your home
( R.I.P. Chris )
Published 30th Jan 2010
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30th Jan 2010 2:06pm
Now normally I don't like such blatant writing, but the form and balance of this poem I feel is just right. Obviously also an emotional piece... I can almost hold the anger fueled by sadness... Sometimes you feel almost as helpless as they do, in truth.
30th Jan 2010 7:44pm
...delivered as only you could, Kandice - and a sobering reminder for us all.
22nd Feb 2010 1:31am
"or whatever psuedo dreams he could chop and snort"
I feel kinda close to this at moments..
I feel kinda close to this at moments..
