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Addict Brain Poetry by Sawyer

  • The Woman Who Taught Me All

    December 26th, 2021

    Fifteen candles burn bright,

    for the woman who taught me how to fight.

    Fifteen memories plant a tree,

    where we sat, and where I can now breathe.

    These years have changed a man,

    and I know only you can understand.

    Sawyer S.

  • Hypothermic Kiss

    December 26th, 2021

    Dopamine releases.

    No longer puzzled by our scattering pieces.

    Another hypothermic kiss, adrift.

    Sunk in the depths of her endless abyss.

    I miss the sugar and how it lingered on her lips,

    but it was just another hypothermic kiss.

    Sawyer S.

  • Spring Sleigh Bells

    December 20th, 2021

    Seven, eight and nine.

    I always thought the burden was mine.

    She told me her name,

    yet cried all the same.

    Ten, eleven and twelve.

    I can still hear sleigh bells

    near to where the snow fell.

    Sawyer S.

  • Choose Life Always; by Sawyer S.

    December 8th, 2021
    I Choose Life Always; handcarved by Dremel tool. -Sawyer S.

    I made this as I began my journey through grief. I can only hope the man I have become is nearly congurent to the values they once held themselves. Each name has and will remain a token of my eternal gratitude. These memories discipline the spirit of my person. For that, I love you all. I miss you dearly.

  • A Mug for You, Too.

    December 5th, 2021
    “A Mug for You, Too.” By Sawyer S.

    “Feral Thought” is Addict Brain Poetry’s former pen name.

  • Sapphire Sophia

    December 4th, 2021

    My dear Sapphire Sophia,

    with reservoir irises that have abandoned Autumn.

    You cannot forgive what has already been forgotten.

    Thorns blossom from the asphalt.

    My dear Sapphire,

    it was never our fault.

    Sawyer S.

  • Haiku: Tulip Resuscitation

    December 4th, 2021

    Upon barren soil,

    a single tulip blossoms;

    resuscitation.

    Sawyer S.

  • Fangs of Plastic

    November 25th, 2021

    What does this mean, to exist?

    Well, his fangs are plastic. 

    You may be prey but,

     pray and pay but they may still say

    that his lungs accumulate so much tar 

    that when he speaks, he may actually bark. 

    When they whisper

    he may only muster a bark. 

    After all, his fangs are sharp.

    They will always confuse predator and prey. 

    What will they see, 

    what will you

    today?

    Sawyer S.

  • Grief Pt. 1

    November 21st, 2021
    I perfected the practice of living in blackness
    This smile of plastic
    They ask why I'm distracted and obsessed with sadness
    but I hold my tongue.
    They can't fathom an emptiness of the gut
    or the only joy being a bite of tobacco in the lungs.
    Spring has Sprung,
    You Rest in Peace.
    whilst we puddle into pieces
    puzzled by all of the missing pieces.
    How could you leave us?
    
    Sawyer S.

  • Paining Puddles

    November 23rd, 2020

    If I ever have the chance of change,

    I shall don this hood

    and not puddle from rain.

    Sawyer S.

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