Meta-Junkie

Meta-Junkie

 

Ever met a meta-junkie?

 

Drawing infant songs

from a concrete vein, my

pains fly away like spooked

pigeons from under an old

gunshot echo bridge.

 

Needle breaks skin

like the honest blade

of a Sepuku sword.

 

Dying to preserve honor

seems like slitting one’s throat

to preserve silence.

I’d make a lousy samurai.

 

Boom! Without omen,

pine trees melt into candle wax

sculptures of whispered bird calls,

the sky sweats whiskey-laughter onto my face,

the greasy kitchenette becomes an underground

universe for me to navigate like a mole king.

 

I’ll dig a hole to creativity

and nibble the roots of ancient

souls

until

the madness settles like a still pond.

 

My reflection has bluer eyes than I do.

Reviews

[Amy Bumpas]

If this is a junkie, I want some of this LOL! I love these
illusions, delusions. Some great lines here: Drawing infant songs
from a concrete vein,
seems like slitting one’s throat
to preserve silence.
the sky sweats whiskey-laughter onto my face
and nibble the roots of ancient
souls

My reflection has bluer eyes than I do.
reminds me of a twisted. dark fairytale:))

[Kerry O'Connor]

I love these pieces: so haunting, pain between the fragments, beauty within the words, and hope at war with despair.
Without omen,
pine trees melt into candle wax
sculptures of whispered bird calls,
the sky sweats whiskey-laughter onto my face...

[emona]

i could play my guitar and make an instrumental for this. you could turn this into a song thats cool ^^