• the_fox 9w

    PARIS MORTON

    excuse me for a laugh,
    pardon my nihilism
    and narcissism;
    half-a-man and the other half
    is a mixture of synthetic medicines :
    lethargic and allergic, days are fuelled
    by previous night's hangover,
    lysergic acid diethylamide,
    suicide isn't a fever-dream
    but a partial reality,
    hold my tongue back
    and chew on supersized cyanides.

    the headrests are broken,
    unhinged headspace, murderous fantasies,
    switch locations like Eddie Murphy with Trading Places,
    the room inside my mind is looking different,
    Kubrick's Apollo set and Scorsese's camera,
    do you have the power to let power go,
    or, is the reality
    just another chimera for you ?

    eighteen is an unlucky number,
    unlikely to hit twenty
    with these habits on my tongue;
    tiptoeing my way through the dry ice
    going into the highs of mid-life crisis,
    snorting the white-god, still delivering pain
    to these papers like a midwife.

    stumble my way up and into
    the lord's house,
    went to church for the hell of it,
    with a bottle of Patron
    right inside my black coat;
    if sadness is a sin
    then, there's no sinner greater than me,
    not Ted Bundy, not Ed Kemper
    and not Jack the Ripper.

    ┬ęthe_fox