Pill Head Junkie

Volume Three

Pill Head Junkie


Pump it straight up the vein, it becomes the shock that keeps you sane.
Always left picking up the pieces, of this shattered existence
and it becomes my bittersweet addiction, this wicked affliction.
An overdose is in the prediction, That will ultimately leave me in perdition.


It is the opiate blues, the withdrawal dues, stringing up my own noose.
My soul has already bled, and in this temple your god is dead.
I run for that ledge, in overdrive reaching for the edge
yet here is a dirty secret I harbor and must confess.


“In my mind I create and I destroy.
Entire worlds will fall to ash,
yet the truth is clear for I am just a boy.
Who could not even manage to stay in class.”


Watch the life fade from my eyes, like the caged lion who slowly dies.
I have lost my passion, gave up all hope and let this life kick me down,
while told not to make even the slightest sound. I want to defiantly stand,
however I can no longer feel the ground.


“Did I fry my brain while trying to stay sane.
In your game of madness to win you must sin
and I've had the chance to look around,
I just want to burn the bitch to the ground.”


Paging Dr. Frankenstein. Smart as an undead Einstein.
Looking sharp in his white lab coat, preying on the ignorant goat.
Dispensing a rainbow pill platter and at this party I am the mad hatter.
There was once a pill head junkie, a regular highschool flunky.


I have tried going sober, as my peace rests on a cold shoulder.
No longer do I care, that karma is a bitch and life is just not fair.
Stumbling into madness, welcome to my hell.
It is the chaos, with your own cell.


The saddest story of them all; A poet who has missed his call.
Potential lost when you choose to fall, running for that wall.
My biggest regret would be to not wager this bet,
for I am holding aces, and do not play favorites.


I hate the way you make me feel, a suicide run with a mentality to kill
I hate this ecstasy in which I bathe, the opiates coursing in my veins; that which I crave
It is the scent of the depraved, the twisted and the insane
and I can sniff it out a mile away.


I know the trickery being whispered into my ear,
that the reaper stands before me, and I should feel fear.


“There was once a pill head junkie,
a dropout, dead head; flunky.
It was what the world thought of him to be,
So that was all he wanted them to see.”


I hate the way you hold me back,
on the hunt, you are my prey and I will attack.
I hold no reservations when you are all about distractions.
Sarcasm is my low blow, as your reaction becomes my free show.
In all my rage, I could claim self medication.
Locked in my cage, It's for your own self preservation.

So make you assumptions, your accusations, and take your observations.
For it is your own obsessions, that has turned this into such a tragedy
and for that you will always fail in your quest for beauty.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

[Edited - Cleaned up messy Codeing]


This was a hard one to write, took me over 3 weeks to find the right words to put this one together... It touches on a very sensitive topic for me, I hope those who read it enjoy the write.... I myself have mixed feelings about this, perhaps writting is no longer helping me as much as I need... Anyway as always comments are apprichiated!!

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Elfy's picture

As always you havent lost

As always you havent lost your talent to write at all matt, and you described your thoughts and feelings very well in this.
But when you say this quote:“

There was once a pill head junkie,
a dropout, dead head; flunky.
It was what the world thought of him to be,
So that was all he wanted them to see.”

I am sad, cause that is not what ever one sees when they look at you. I see differantly then that. I see a wonderful, smart,loving, caring, unique, funny,person, who has more life inside of him, then he sees sometimes. And in his hands he holds more power then most people do.
But your power is not threw your mouth and its cursings, or threw your fist and its puntchs, its threw your heart and its beliefs with your soul, and your hands as they write. No matter what the world may think of you, all that matters is what you think of you. And it may not matter, but i think your a sweet, loving, caring, smart man. So fuck the world, continue to shine, and let yourself be seen as what you wish. Wonderfull poem as always. Now i leave you with a quote that has helped me= " It doesnt matter what you have been, it matters what you can be"