Intoxicated

(A/N: My old poetry book, Poison Wings, was wayyyy too long. I told myself I'd stop at forty parts, but then I forgot. It's around forty five now. Oh well.

Anyway, this will just be another collection, but hopefully with better poems. Enjoy!)

You're in the way

Of me getting what I want,

Succubus, carnivore, cannibal,

Insult me with nothing but a glance.

Silence is far too clear an illustration of the

Mania, hysteria;

What the oxycontin screams.

I'm the cure,

I'm infectious.

Wrap up warm in skimpy nothing

And protect yourself from clean.

Bury your face in poison,

Brave the logic before you can

Break free and

Lie again.

Lost and blurry is where I want to be;

Where you all are and I'll never reach;

Hypnotised and safe.

I can still intoxicate myself with the

Tension, sole

Intention of losing it,

Want to be lost,

Want to be done,

But not finished,

Too distracted.

Scattered pieces of

Trains of

Thoughts.

It's all a bit off, all a bit jumbled,

But when I black out, calm and unfocused,

It'll all come together in a line of blood.

Want to be lost,

Want to be done,

But not finished,

Too distracted.