Leira

Can’t get sustenance
Sometimes I stare
at the wall
Sent telegrams of old
vistas, barren rock crevasses
cuts in the ground as
gashes in my brain.
I spit futility into a cup
and wait for the powder
re-ingest for the pure pleasure
I’m stumbling down
corridors, within myself
I still sit on the bed
feet dangle
jaw hangs.
Lips loose on topics
I choose, to hurt those
unknowingly, just for conversation.
Don’t realize that I stabbed
a back for the fourth or fifth time
I lost count after the first
bloodlust blindness, wicked
plans, bowlegged, crooked back
Sickly stare, weak knees
Fumbling keys from palm to palm
I only drive to get to death
faster, and faster as I paddle
along the river Styx
passage of a million
for one