i will sleep when we are dead

there was a
howling vortex
screaming as i
shook off the effects
of the sleeping pills
uncertain as to
where i was
i crawled shakily
through a demented
hell of my own
foolish creation
the hand of god
squeezing my temples
as the last flecks
of spittle ran down
my furry chin

hundreds of miles
ticking off as i
struggle to recall
the last time i slept
without a head full of
drugs and a heart
screaming to be heard
over the turmoils
self crafted by
these scarred hands
that yearn to give
in a world that only
knows how to take
leaving me grasping
at the errant winds
for the succor of
dreams unimagined

trapped in this cell
buffetted by razors
spilling every ounce
to stain the parchment
with my unholy desire
to be something more
than another half baked
pseudophilosopher
peddling words to
try and affect change
on a species doing
whatever it can to
ensure it’s own demise
yet lacking the simple
self awareness to
try to patch this
sinking ship before
it is all too late

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