Enablers Cook for the Addiction

Cooking their veins with skinny topped
Spoonfuls of synergy;
They don’t mind sharing, just give them yours
And they’ll start the daily communion.
Serve the daily bread
Liquidated here to powder and heat
The fumes arise, water your eyes

Your lips are dry, chapped, neglected and
Ignored as your whispers and incantations
Rise like incense with the smoke and taint.
Your eyes twitch like an epileptic in a seizure,
A true believer to worship and adore.
Leave your money, your family;
Sacrifice your soul
For just one more…

They huddle around the single lighter’s flame,
They shove their salvation into the fire.
The tongues licking the bottom of their metallic spoons;
Their prayers ascending,
Their minds descending
Into animalistic intent and single-minded focus.

On cue.
One two.
You ingest the poison and powder your soul
Vomiting intent and diluted integrity
To consume all hopes in you
To inject the sorrow and despair into your veins
Cooking your brain, fry your sanity
For mere moments of delusion.

Why is the motto:
Fight over smack,
Share a needle?
Such irony.

Cooking their veins with sugar topped, artery-clogged
Spoonfuls of resentment;
They don’t mind taking, just give them yours
And they’ll start the daily consumption.
Serve the daily bread and butter
Baked here to confection and fat-frosted
Scents that waft and dry your eyes

Your lips are dry, chapped, neglected and
Ignored as your whispers and incantations
Rise like incense with the fryer steam and smoke.
Your hands shake like a diabetic in a candy store,
A true believer to worship and adore.
Leaving your dignity, and your happiness;
Sacrifice your soul
For just one more…

They huddle around the overladen buffet table,
They shove their hands into the platters.
Their tongues licking the bottom of their metallic spoons;
Slobbering over grasping fingers even as
Their guilt arises,
Their disgust bubbles forth
Into depressed intent and dissipated resolution.

On cue.
One two.
You ingest the confection and smother your soul
In butter, sugar, pastries and gradual death,
Vomiting intent and diluted integrity
To consume all hopes in you;
To swallow the sorrow and despair into yourself,
Drown your body’s voice, and destroy your health
For mere moments of escapism.

Why is the motto:
Fight over snacks,
Share a scale?
Such irony.

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Published by

opalflame

I am artist, analyst, author, poet, composer, musician to name a few aspects of myself. A bit of a jack of trades, I dabble into many fields that encourage the blossom of imagination and allow me to channel my creativity. I dream vividly and view the world through the lens of optimism and opportunity while acknowledging the ink and shadows.

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