High (Dreaming on the Hill)


my throat is sand

I’m curled up, tucked into a corner

of misery land.


coarse pink bugs

Coating my innards with viscous vermilion slime.

torturing my body like a lecherous hug.


its a long time coming.

there’s too many demons,

fevered hearts a’drumming.


as refreshing as the rain

after the drought.

To take the away the pain.


streaming in from afar.

You’ve brought me gifts,

succulents treats from the bazaar.


kind, gentle, sane.

I am blessed,

to even exist on your plane.


Waking up in a cold sweat,

eyes blind in the dark,

reality blasting my mind: water from a jet.

(why’d you only love me when you’re high)


5 thoughts on “High (Dreaming on the Hill)

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