A Portrait of Self Destruction

reeferchief

As I let go
relinquished my grip
my fingers loosened
downward I slipped
to the bottom
below
I fell with a thud
heard my bones crack
but didn't feel pain
relief was the feeling
that flowed through my vains
to be free
free from the noise
psychologically damaging
me on the inside
all the voices in my head
running round causing mockery
the payback now came
extracting my revenge
by commiting self harm
a viscious circle trapped in
feeling no remorse
just pressure swelling
kicked in the nuts
doing my own head in
the relief will be realised
when I stop breathing.

reeferchief

As the needle pricks the vain
the blood slowly clots up
as the poison is slowly drained
from needle to body
and on to heammorage the brain
with delusional thoughts of escapism
a new found freedom gained
the deluded now in freefall
a new pain soon to be gained
to escape an old pain
addiction about to take its reign
a walking zombie soon to be
only wanting
needing to feed the hunger
almost savagely craved
self harm would seem like childs play
to this new damage rusting him
what could be so bad
that needs to be escaped this way?
a jaded childhood, or jilted as a lover?
abusive past times
this is no way to recover
but the eyes of the unfortunate
could not see the forest
for all the thick trees around
as the needles grip grows tighter
the feet slowly trip on the harsh ground.

reeferchief

The paranoid dementia
a silent place to get away
all those voices multiplying
each time the eyes open
the room all wobbling
breathing, crushing me as it tightens
I'm panicky, jumping at the slightest sound
in search of a silence that can never be found
I wish to get away but dont know where to start
oh theres the needle, escape the easy way
the cuts are growing deeper
as my arms are covered in sores
my layers of skin thinned out
ravaged by the poison that I once thought helped me
now breeding my paranoid thought pattern
feeding it fresh voices, to aggrevate
the depths I now sink in
as the poison works its magic,
I find myself in that silent place again
a tranquil beach around me,
just the waves on the shore to be heard.

reeferchief

The long sleeved hoody, slipped on
his wretched body rived into it
hood pulled up, to hide the gaunt look
also acting as a forcefield
to deflect the looks of passers by
a shadow of his former self
not even half alive
eating habits replaced
by a juice now needed to survive
Tuesday again, the journey must be strived
out into the public
in contact with other life
this recluse must make this trip every week
or he would never get by
as he slips out the door he starts to feel the eyes
hit him like laser beams,
burning to the centre of his mind
activating all those voices like a clock radio alarm
he stumbles down the steps into the street below
the post office just yards away, but feeling like miles
nausea causes him to vomit
as the paranoia rips him to shreads
taking those steps down the street
to the end of the road
the door bell rings
as he struggles to push open the door
the old lady behind the counter growls
as she looks up and stares,
the growl ripples her wrinkles like waves
as he heads to the counter,
sweat dripping to the floor
almost forming a river
he cashes his giro and almost runs for the exit
a third of the journey over,
now round the corner on to the main road
he slips on his shades
his force field strengthener
as he continues his journey to the dealer
the healer who would fix his pain.

reeferchief

Down the main road his stride grew stronger
as he got closer to the medicine
he arrived unto the dealers apartment
handed over his cash,
in return taking his bag of medicine
and back down the main road
to his squallow house
unclean and filth infested
living in depravation
only feeding his addiction
as the hole grew deeper
he slid more comfortably in
if only someone cared about him
or could see how he'd fell
but there was no one ever about
to realise his living hell
and he was too blind to do anything
but slip deeper in the hole
the medicine readied and warmed up
and the needle pricked again
another Tuesday nightmare over
and the pain now masked again.

reeferchief

Coming around, room spinning
unfamiliar, bright lights blinding
white clean walls,
not grotty dirty brown filth
his eyes prick open
to see four tight walls
and apparatus from a hospital
The landlord had dropped by
to find him passed out
in the living room
it was now Friday
but Tuesday was his last real memory
intraveneous drip stuck in his ravaged right arm
5 minutes later someone walked in
were they foreign?
no words they spoke made sense
and a hungry voice was now requesting to be fed
nothing made sense no more
location, people, everything so unfamiliar
the only thing recognisable was the paranoia
and all those voices still living in his head.