Mysterious cocktails swim through my bloodstream,
as I stare at the tell-tale faults in my life through
the layered cracks in my phone screen.
Confused by distorted reflections.
Abused by imported affection.
I am afraid of becoming a
broken-down product of
social perfection.
About the Creator
Kale Sinclair
Author | Poet | Husband | Dog Dad | Nerd
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Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts6 days ago in Longevity
Comments (3)
Broken-down product of social perfection. I loved that! Fantastic poem!
Love the stylistic structure choice here! Captivating!
There is a mystery here that makes you want to read more....