Poppy's Opium White

Poppy's Opium White

It is agreed.

Divinity’s decisive hand

prolongs the torture that is life.

Encased in expectation, protected by shivers.

Your middle class carcass deprived, now it quivers.

A poppy’s milk and your arms wrapped in needle and crimson silk.

A glistening white,

your lies that pulled you through life

like the spoon that you cherish so much,

are alight.

Your veins and neurons, mortal as they come, they submit.

Life was pain and hope was thoroughly met with defeat.

In dreams of redemption you glide

with your guardian angel stoned, wings-clipped

by your side.

An Athenian passion play,

you wanted to sculpt the Self into godhood

yet you feared that you’d run out of clay.

Instead, you decided the parley with dreams was the way.

Now white light from stars afar,

litanies of faces that are close

life struggles, life bargains

a world that gives spite

a world that you chose

a world to live in

and a world to oppose.

But you are lost, mere milligrams

on the wrong side of the prose.