these days

somehow 

life has become reduced to

track marks

drawing everything but blood

which veins left untouched

without slipping too far

beneath the skin 

existing entirely to taunt

always first pull the stopper up 

start with the veins that can be felt

work around the blown out bruising

dehydration may hinder any sure fire sign

that the needle marks the spot

push on ahead if yet brave enough

a pinch and a burn 

stop if it hurts

do not dare to waste the lot

a little pain 

some pressure

sharp burning sensation 

part of the package

when mixing dirty shots

becoming of mere necessity

as the day count continues to draw out

as long as the vein is not missed entirely 

embrace all the facets of fallout

please by all means continue 

to punish the same swollen 

rolled collapsed veins

that were never successful even the previous day

God forbid discontinue self-mutilation 

disguised as torture porn

a new fangled and groundbreaking unit of measure 

cubic centimeters

fill the needle up just barely enough

space for the stopper

the sweet taste of deaths elusive breath stinging the back of all our tongues

something so sinisterly daunting 

about ripping away every shallow half hearted last breath

violently right out of the grim reapers cold permanent uninviting

still ironclad skeletal hands

push your heart to its limit my darling 

just to know quite exactly the hard limits 

of your own dark demented twisted recanted misery 

tip over the edge just to prove you will always make it back

take meticulous purposeful painstaking design

in a homestead residing in the choppy waves of discontent

anxiety inducing 

petrified spiraling

monsters conjured up entirely 

arising out of the deep recesses of the mind

to justify the hot high speed chasing the dragon 

slipping silently through the whisper white storm clouds

masquerading his flight path from view

to anyone tracing the heavens above

a tedious and petulant tight increment  away from

the enthusiast gaggle violently scrounging the path 

for even the most minute indicator 

that this foray down the forboden blocked off abandoned road

is really a journey of the trailblazing kind

off kilter and a bit off putting

but the mystical end in sight

in support of the ever elusive

written off as folklore 

tall impetuous ignorant tales of the black lagoon

in an ill-conceived attempt at sickly fantastical indulgence 

of the comforting laying down of arms 

allowing final rest for treachery 

silencing any panic driven frenzied unabashed call to action 

holding desperately instead with forceful calculated cold death grip 

to the long awaited uncovering 

of the most unexpected series of events

unmasking just another claimed obsolete mythical creature 

in all the grandeur of fantastical far away fairytale lands 

something beautiful and mystical 

if only it were true 

otherwise silly 

misguided

unfortunate captor of the mind

flighty 

ignorant

even dubious 

preying on the wandering souls

hearts skipping beats strung out on reasons to flea

lacking direction except in the pursuit of the road less traveled across

sleeping with one eye open in amusement

just to frenzy in sharp glimmering light

of incandescent rays of the sun left reflected

through the ominous moon beam shining into the room

to hold these puny pitter-pattered

shattered glass teardrops 

clutched tightly in weathered hands

well the closest thing may always be

slamming crystals alone in the room

or possibly driving around rolling nut sacks

getting lost in the hood on magic

music has never held truer meaning

than when substance entered the view

hindsight may be 20 20

but it is hard to see with vapor obscuring the view of the road

behind at least 

flying so fast 

stumbling over the future 

no time to catch one last dying breath

passing desperate pleas 

if God can hear them

to not allow me to encounter

any sharp bend in my path 

or road block 

unmarked speed bump 

anything so abrupt 

unexpected

utterly ill-prepared for

that would cause a halt and crash

one I may never come back from

this is merely a futile attempt 

at adopting radical positivity 

engaging only the facets that bind

to optimistic blind wide-eyed ideology 

that to thou no harm may come

moreover radical acceptance of claimed predestined outcomes

thy will be done

or so they say 

regardless ever of

human tendency to reclaim power

over their own simple agency 

trust not God 

or celestial bond

the ancestors vacated long long ago

unclaimed

uncalled

unappreciated 

unhinged

cannot call on them only now

a damsel in distress 

bitch left behind

forgotten

discarded and left ripe for death

best not think too far forward much more

just pick up every time stash is low

justify it as the need to ensure brain matter not slow

duck and cover to blow

blue flame clouds 

escaping right through the door

hold points in your hands

have some always stashed in your pants

careful to never let the marks show

everything is fine just as long as 

no one closest to you ever know

if it is not in plain sight 

no need to let it weigh on your mind

for the charade is far more important

than that of the truth held behind

stapled and super glued to torture and bind

muffled screams barely kept choked back

behind sewn up shut sinister enchanting lips

turning up at the corners to force a convincing beguiling smirk

treacherous lies barely hidden by grey hollowed out eyes

smartly designed to make seamless the handcrafted mask

worn so tightly it may be mistaken for skin

keep up the act just long enough to find clarity

slay the elusive dragon plaguing the back

of tempestuous mind or ponder

and plunder in paranoia

perfect misery captured in this

inability to kick the chemical diet

sneaking openly past unguarded lips

swallow that marble all over until it grows to the size of a boulder

one unable to be swallowed without bashing in some teeth

manic morose morbid challenging of mortality

in the never ending pursuit of what if.