Apr 10
Doors
I want to lose myself in blinding sex, or drugs that numb, vodka that burns going down, doors to anywhere but here. Here, my lifeless life, my endless lonely, where I drown in a stream of consciousness. Drowning without death, finding nothing but locked doors.
5 comments
5 Comments so far
had some Ardberg recently. Was ace.
If you can get some I’d go Mescalin [peyote]. Pretty much completely safe and you’d bliss right the fuck out. Read up on The Doors Of Perception by Aldous Huxley.
Also, pretty much anything by Blake will win. The Marriage Of Heaven And Hell is a big hit.
“Drown in a stream of consciousness” – well put
I’ve read lots of poetry that reflect these thoughts, but yours is near-perfect, having, as they say, “no wasted words” and good phrasing. Regarding the comment by undeadbydawn, have you ever read any Aldous Huxley?
I wonder, do you ever just write what you’re feeling and get a little down when someone compliments it as good writing, when all you were doing was feeling like shit?
Can’t help but consider that…
As one who more than once dove into a ocean of doors, drugs, sex, for escape, I can say, it’s probably the best way to feel Worse. And really mess you up for a good long time.
I wish you some Peace, Mike, however you get it.
Keep the faith.
undeadbydawn: Thanks for the tips!
Alex and Bill: Thanks for the compliments!
Will: That’s an interesting question. No, it doesn’t get me down. One reason I write is that I love the craft, and I want to use it well.