deepundergroundpoetry.com
opium no. 4
how many days
has it been i reach in
somewhere deep
way within
under skin
but it is made of the air
hung between us that night
and all the fights
that we had
while we were friends
more sad music plays
i ride another hobby horse
from my desert of decay
until the hooves that i love
that have carried me away
crumple up like burning paper
turning black and then to gray
i will pull
every arrow from my skin
hand them over
and let you put them right back in
one by one, sin by sin
until i'm finally free again
and my paper gray ashes
are twisting in the wind
has it been i reach in
somewhere deep
way within
under skin
but it is made of the air
hung between us that night
and all the fights
that we had
while we were friends
more sad music plays
i ride another hobby horse
from my desert of decay
until the hooves that i love
that have carried me away
crumple up like burning paper
turning black and then to gray
i will pull
every arrow from my skin
hand them over
and let you put them right back in
one by one, sin by sin
until i'm finally free again
and my paper gray ashes
are twisting in the wind
Published 13th Apr 2023
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Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
30th Apr 2023 6:31am
Brilliant analogy of ashes and sin. Also, I like the honesty in apprehension of relationships, because of the guilt of addiction (no? Am I misinterpreting?). The struggle of euphoria, infinitely opposed by the consequences of life. As pointless as ashes from burning paper. To find a piece of euphoria for a moment, and then, to suffer 10-fold for what beckoning calls "eternity."
