Cracked ❄️

The first thing you need to know about me — I don’t write that much at all. Part of the reason why I even began this blog was because I needed to arrange my thoughts in a half-intelligible format. So I’ve decided to begin this epic quest with no more than a poem. An innocent, harmless, twee little poem.

Well actually, it’s not innocent at all. I wrote this poem only because I needed something to perform at a local poetry slam. So I asked my roommate for a prompt, and, lo and behold, he endows upon me ‘temptation by cocaine’. Why he thought I could relate to such a topic I do not know, but I set about trying to write something anyway. What ended up happening was that I tried to use an extended metaphor to describe cocaine. Sadly, however, I ended up using sex, out of all things, as a comparison. Stupid, yes, I know. Because the metaphor itself was, in all respects, smutty, I ended up altogether scrapping the idea of reciting the poem. Yeah. But here it is anyway.

Oh, and just to clarify, at the time of writing this, I have neither had sex (I cry) nor snorted cocaine. I wrote this poem armed only with a pen, paper, and a largely deformed imagination. Now read.


That night I saw her
So white and fine,
I said to her, ‘No.
You’re not mine.’

But shortly after,
She called again;
Laced and ready,
I let her in.

She stole, she robbed,
But the things she gave!
Power and control;
She was my slave.

The adventures shared,
The futures forged;
I could do anything,
On her I gorged.

A rush, a thrill
Beyond compare;
But to be without her?
A bleached nightmare.

And thus I let
My soul take flight,
My body left caked,
Sprinkled with white.

But then I saw
A dawn so cold,
And she was gone;
To her I’d been sold.

Distorted, destroyed,
These cracks in my head;
Now I was empty
And the grave was my bed.


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