Infected

on

A part of myself is dead
from a poison I was fed.
My mind seems hot red
from toxins in the head.


Chemical imbalance lures
me in a wave of haze sure
I’ll take these pills to cure
words from your sewers.


The reasons I do what I do
are no longer because of you.
I’ll do as exactly as I choose,
shed the rhetoric removed.


Words used as if a gun
so as if a child I tried run
in my all blackened sun
to a bottle of cheap rum.


In my inner ear as if a leech
infecting me I do beseech
ways to escape its reach;
an asp filled sordid speech.


My bones are sturdy but the
marrow within infects me.
From needles filled with heat
injected with your deceit.

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