Addict Brain Poetry by Sawyer

Queen of Hearts

April 18th, 2022

I hand her my spoiled apple.

“Do you want a bite?“

She had always chased the sadness inside of me.

Her eyes dart to the bedroom floor and stay there.

“It’s too much. This, what we have now, is enough.”

She pulls an airplane bottle of vodka from her tattered leather Kate Spade purse along with a Marlboro 27.

“When will you ever be mine?”

“At least I’ll always know I smoke better cigarettes than you.”

I snicker at my audacity. I know I’d promised my little sister I quit,

but I pull out my pack of Marlboro Black shorts.

All I need to feel is that sharp tug of nicotine in the back of my throat. Maybe, that would blunt the pain of her response.

I crack my knuckles in a nervous habit.

We’re literally sitting on my bed staring at each other.

There are dead butterflies in my stomach.

“I’m not a possession. We are impermanent. Anything else you could argue would be frivolous. I love you, isn’t that enough?”

Her words are like the strings of a puppet master, they beguile my will.

Her eyes are like narcotics. Potent.

I find myself doped from her hazel irises.

I’ve lost all conviction.

We eventually give in. Right?

“I love…I love you too.”

I juggle my spoiled apple from hand to hand. I’m famished.

I take a bite and wretch from its foul taste.

She just stares at me.

Her eyes show pity and little else.

I hold back my tears and continue to eat the foul fruit.

I must prove to her that I can stomach every last bite.

“Do you want me, right now?”

I concede that I am a foolish man. My hands know more of lust than love.

I submit to my Queen of Hearts,

my drug of no choice.

She knows my every hand before I can bluff.

I’ll always be an addict to people I cannot trust.

“You already know the answer. Let me taste you.”

I escape into euphoria. She has taken the safest parts of myself hostage.

Her nails dig into my back to remind me that I am hers.

The pain reminds me that I am most certainly alive.

I bite her lip to remind her that she is too.

Love is scarlet red. It trickles down my back and stains my bedsheets.

Love is dark purple. It bruises the lips that rarely smile.

Love is unrequited.

Haiku: Vices

April 12th, 2022

Lingering phantoms
Dancing with these old vices
The boy I was died

Haiku: Sinful

April 12th, 2022

Moonlit ocean eyes
falling into fantasy
A sinful city

Letters of Love ~ 1

April 11th, 2022

Puppeteer Princess,

Your words stole the flavor from my dinner plate.
My favorite meal became crushed tablets and stale cigarettes.
You were no longer the high I chased.
Love in the Northwest eludes me.

Our queen-sized bed soon became a graveyard of expectations.
It's funny, you used those acrylic nails to carve my name into a headstone
but you could never bring yourself to write something meaningful like,
"Forever Loved."
I've always been nothing less than a possession.
Do you remember when I left,
you told me that you would place me in a box
next to all of your forgotten lovers?
You seem to trespass grief.

You had always tried to paint me in shades
that were too dark for either of us to see.
Despite how much I could ever bleed,
this monochrome love was too ugly
for you to ever need.

Winter sank its fangs
into our vacant home.
My estranged lover, 
where will you ever go?

Sincerely,
Your Graveyard Valentine

Haiku: Veins

April 11th, 2022

Drugs pool in black veins
meditation with your ghost
I am losing breath

Sawyer S.

Haiku: Strung Out

April 10th, 2022

Why can't you see me,
strung out from your sapphire eyes.
Lover in disguise.

Sawyer S.

Bucket of Shame

April 10th, 2022

My bucket of shame is black.
It's made of clay.
Filled with tar,
mistakes my lungs can't seem wheeze anymore.
I cough them out
into this filthy little bucket.
I'm trapped in a dirty bathroom
of an upside down studio apartment.
I clutch the bucket tightly.
I remember your name,
and feel like I've swallowed glass.
I cough violently,
and spit.

Sawyer S.

Poem: Long Lost Lullaby

April 8th, 2022

Chocolate opal eyes set ablaze
a fire that would smolder
all in its fury.
As my blood turned blue,
an immortal angel sang
a long-lost lullaby to comfort
the souls of sunken men.

Scarlet stained truth
from petty white lies,
how have I become
everything I once denied?

Sawyer S.

Short Story: What A Day To Be Alive

April 5th, 2022

I woke up today and screamed at the wooden ceiling.
My brows furrow at first,
and then I burst into laughter at myself.
What a day to be alive.
I wear a short-sleeve outside, 
allowing the wind to sink its teeth into my bare arms
because
I never expected to be alive this long.
I stroll down the street and actually
smile
at every passerby.
Maybe I'll be alive today.
As I sit on an empty park bench,
I pull out my pack of Marlboro Blacks.
I chain smoke five cigarettes just to
feel
the bite of nicotine in the back of my throat.

A man strolls in front of me with a young girl on his back.
They both avert my gaze,
the stigma of cigarette smokers.
She drops her tiny little shoe on the grass.
I pick it up and yell, "You dropped your tiny little shoe!"
To which, they ignore me.
I persist to follow them and poke the man on his shoulder.
He looks frightened at first.
The man thanks me and smiles.
What a day, what a day to be alive!

Sawyer S.

Haiku: Graveyard Valentine

April 5th, 2022

keep me warm at night,
ghosts of forgotten lovers.
graveyard valentine.