Sunday, 22 October 2023

Shrapnel of memories

 


Still a handful of blood cells

in my alcohol stream.

Blurred vision, but I can still see

through the ethanol smeared screen.

This is not enough for me,

my slurring, self-medicated mind thinks,

lining up the drinks.

I need to obliterate every memory,

every thought needs to be lost in the debris.

a time bomb set to explode. Deep in my cerebral cortex.

I set the timer a while ago, tick, tick.

I wait for it to boom.

I don't want to see this room.

 

If I can't feel anymore

then did the pain really exist?

Like a tree fallen in a forest.

 

Tick, tick, tick,

the seconds keep clicking,

Echoing through every moment I spend thinking.

Another shot, I stagger and drop.

But still, it doesn't go off.

The heartbreak still feels like a part of me

has been taken and set alight.

The ache of memories

feels like a storm inside my house,

and someone has turned off the light.

Blocking out the moon, destroyed the night.

So, I drink some more to claw those memories

from my memory store.

 

If I can't feel anything, then did it really happen?

Schrodinger's pain pawing at my brain.

 

Tick. Tick.

I feel sick to my core and my straining stomach 

can't take much more of this poison that I pour,

but it's never enough to cloud the terrified sky.

I start to cry and the floods don't stop.

The bomb goes off.

 

Were the tinkling sounds those of glasses smashing

or the ringing of last orders?

Did the pain cause the need to obliterate,

Or did it feed a self-destructive part of me?

Pavlov’s pain barking at my mind again.

 

I awaken.The shrapnel

of those memories,shattered,

scattered through my thought timeline,

but I'm alive

and for the first time I look up

and don't see a terrified sky,

but a smile saying everything will be alright.

 

 


Thanks for reading

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Peace, Love & Poetry 
 
Kyle



 

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