Give Me Your Overdose

Let me down easy. Or make it hard.

It doesn't matter at all.

The pieces are always the same.

There's a picture and it's taken me. Deep inside its camera. To where those shadows become shapes.

There's a billboard in my heart. And it screams so loud in giant letters and enormous lips. That the world has made it flat.

Pressed until every wrinkle relented. Giving up its eternal tantrum and finally falling silent.

There was nothing to hear anyway. Except how I tried to be and wasn't.

The choke of life gagging on itself. Like a needle dangling from a vein after the last dose of heroin.

Just trying to feel something.

Or maybe a little less.

Either way, it isn't working.

I just wanted to touch what I had felt. Snap. Crackle. Pop. The spoon in the milk instigating.

Friends.

And there we are swimming in those bowls. The hunger not a surprise. Only another tether on this long, long leash.

I don't want to hunt. Or be hunted by.


Just want to know why we're still here. What we say to each other when we can't hear. All the reasons it has to hurt.

I just wanted to be your overdose. For you to be mine. But how we kill each other always leaves us more crippled than dead.