Junkphoria

heroin beneath my skin
a beautiful high will now begin
sense of ease and all is well
distance myself from living hell

the crashing waves and shades of red
as visions of light dance in my head
nothing to worry about when nothing hurts
life on junk is full of firsts

the coast of california
beacon lights my persona
in love with love and half undressed
my soul will roll so unimpressed

beauty comes and stonedness stays
i listen to heroin’s song for days and days
a peacefulness found only here
junkphoria leaves no room for fear

sweet draginflies on red clouds
an evilness that darkness shrouds
i feel alive at last at least
knowing my heroin is not a beast

youthful excitment flowing forth
a warm wind blowing from the north
ease received when tears are sent
sex and love for my enjoyment

drifting on the crimson waves
from sea to sea my junk behaves
the needle holds a lovely thing
the junkphoria my heroin brings

words wrap themselves around my ears
warm and salty just like tears
fading out away from pain
wrapped in blankets safe from the rain

for you i do these beautiful things
junkphoria gives me wings
soft tounge and lips around my neck
a kiss consists of one soft peck

washing my soul in a bath of ocean
trying to keep my warm wounds open
the blood that flows a royal blue
junkphoria it’s all for you

i’m not alone ever again
for i wed the paper with my pen
write words of suffering and pain
then junkphoria comes and my poems are not the same.

Published
Categorized as poetic

By The Dying Euphoria

I may not be the average junk addict, seeing as I still have a few things going for me, but I'm a slave to heroin just the same. I'm a sad sight, no doubt, but that's the way life is, and you can't help it. So whatever you do, don't try and fuck with it. I like it when people e-mail me and reply to my posts, so please, speak your mind to me, if you wish. I have a blood, violence, and self mutilation fetish, so I'll spend a lot of time in the Erotica section, posting and reading. I write poetry, and I'll be posting thousands of poems. So please, check for my name often. If I disappear, well, I probably took my fetish too far...