Tag: addiction

Healthcare

Without a moment’s hesitation,
I’ll dig into my pocket and produce
two little blue pills that
represent everychance I have at
feeling some semblance of comfort.[…]

HealthCare

Without a moment’s hesitation,
I’ll dig into my pocket and produce
two little blue pills that
represent everychance I have at
feeling some semblance of comfort.

Without any second thought,
I’ll swallow whatever you hand me,
whatever you say that’ll take me one step closer
to a reality without what ails me,
sans that fire that ails me.

So sell me anything that can cure me,
because I am desperate for 
whatever snake oil you can offer,
any remedy other than the reality
of accepting what I have to accept.

So sell me exactly what I want,
which is a vacation from what I face,
I’ll give you whatever you want in return
if you save me from this horrid place.

4-2-8
M. L> Michael

About…

some kind of addict

Yes, I must admit,
I’m some kind of addict.
I’m a bee buzzing for a score of pollen
or I’m a bear jonesin for a pawful of honey.
and/maybe/either/or,
I’m a seeker in the desert,
who has lost myself on purpose
,
so I can find my new way

out[…]

Yes, I must admit,
I’m some kind of addict.
I’m a bee buzzing for a score of pollen
or I’m a bear jonesin for a pawful of honey.
and/maybe/either/or,
I’m a seeker in the desert, 
who has lost myself on purpose,
so I can find my new way 
out. 

12`12`06
M. L. Michael

About…

you, the god damning drunk…

would you hear me out,
if all i ask is for something small,
would it even matter if..
all i ask is for one day without the thirst,
one day without waking up thinking
about that desire for the drink
that steadily thrives into a must.[…]

you, the god damning drunk
(are not very eloquent) 

would you hear me out,
if all i ask is for something small,
would it even matter if..
all i ask is for one day without the thirst,
one day without waking up thinking 
about that desire for the drink 
that steadily thrives into a must.

if you would grant me that one wish,
so that i may own that one day,
i’d use it to arrange myself straight,
save whatever aches I must endure.
i’d gather up all my ducks first,
save whatever damage their pecking ensues.
i’d gather all my shit into one corner,
save whatever stench I couldn’t wash away.
if you would grant me that one wish,
i’d stop wasting, if only for one day
i’d stop wanting.

but that’s not possible, 
even if you could, i doubt you would;
lest i find my own damn way 
out of the dark..

ya know what, fuck you, 
for letting me entertain this idea,
for letting me be tonight’s entertainment,
with my drunkards jig, 
and my equally sillier speech..
yes, i may be saying this with a slur,
but my meaning still rings through.

yeah, so, fuck you 
for replying with your silence
as heavy as a look in the mirror..
because i know what it means
without having to know what it means..
(cuz’ this pain has to mean something,
right?)

yea, so fuck you,
you, the god damning drunk,
who needs to sleep it off.

\\08-17-06
M. L. Michael

About…

you’re so vain, you probably think this poem is about you

before you stabbed me somehow real–
before i was bleeding out all over the field,
all i could see was your siren-beauty
singing, all I could feel was your hot face bathing,
against the searing white– that astonishing raw–
seconds after I had opened my arms:
i felt the definite betrayal of your knife
violating my hungering space.[…]

"you're so vain, you probably think this poem is about you."
 
before you stabbed me somehow real--
before i was bleeding out all over the field,
all i could see was your siren-beauty
singing,  all I could feel was your hot face bathing,
against the searing white--  that astonishing raw--
seconds after I  had opened my arms:
i felt the definite betrayal of your knife
violating my hungering space.

(i am nothing but disdained and craven
  in my addiction for your novocain lovin) 

then, you dressed me down, and
               dressed my wounds, and
            undressed yourself,
        to address me down.
to take care of kissing me, to take care of caressing me
where my aching has consumed all sound.where my consumption
has caused aching all around. so i can barely think to think
my way out of the box-- because all is alright, right
when ill take any warmth,
as a ward against the freeze that defines every month.

(i am everything but accomplished and winning
  in my race for that 100percent numbed feeling.)

until, i am almost better, i am almost ready
to pull myself out of your venus such embrace,
when your knife finds my ache again, and my back
finds the floor, again, as willingly as someone broken again,
someone to be that one repair, again,
someone to be your one fix, again.

i am nothing but disdained and craven
in my addiction for your novocain lovin
i am everything but accomplished and winning
in my race for that 100percent numbed feeling.

-m. l. michael.
-05-29-06-

About…

everlasting spirit-stompers

doc’s words are it. the undoing, everlasting
spirit-stompers that i’ll swallow. struggling.
until they’re dissolved or i’m absorbed, idontknow.
until whatever the consequence; i’m absolved. 

doc’s words are it. the undoing, everlasting
spirit-stompers that i’ll swallow. struggling.
until they’re dissolved or i’m absorbed, idontknow.
until whatever the consequence; i’m absolved. 

03-10-06
M. L. Michael

About…

The ebb and flow of pharmaceuticals

White ravens cawed their best – a blasphemy of tradition.
Sounding all of dissonance, their mark is made in deception.
Where it begins with a
tumble
down (cavern or cavity)[…]

The Ebb and Flow of Pharmaceuticals

White ravens cawed their best – a blasphemy of tradition.
Sounding all of dissonance, their mark is made in deception.
Where it begins with a
		             tumble
			            down (cavern or cavity)
Manufactured escape, the mettle and sinew of tragedy
And still they
	         tumble
		        down (a white meteor seconds to downtown)
Until they
	    *touch*
		 down (a white explosion to dissolve and drown)

White ravens cawed their worst – a blasphemy of saviors
Blessed with conditional reception, masked miracles for favors
When it all happens with a
			      f l u t t e r
				         up (standard or stream)
Fog of mind trailing their wings, opiate laced to dull the regime
And still they
	         f l u t t e r 
			up (measured by time – they’ll divide the flock)
Until they
	    foul
	          up (measured against time – silence without the shock)

White ravens cawed their last – a tragedy of blasphemy
Gone before forgotten with an absence marked by misery
Where it all ends with a  	 	 	 
	                          tumble
				 back down (highway or mindway)
Return of the sword, truth of situation embodied, must we obey? 
And then I
	     tumble
		    back down (as my design is my deduction)
Until I
         *touch*
   	        back down (as my design is my dysfunction)

M. L. Michael 
04-23-04

About…