Dead meat
dead meat
and a pretty girl
junkies of poetry
and poorly rolled darts
I should be doing ketamine
in a dirty and dark club
where no one asks
what I’m doing with my life
instead, i sit across
from your pink hair
and dozens of piercings
that each hold a story
feeling nostalgic
I decided to start smoking again
even a corpse,
needs a cheap thrill
you are hotter than my laptop battery
and you might kill me
but in a good way
the way where i actually die
it’s cold
smoking in the rain
as neon lights glow
matching the colour of your hair
I went home and did ketamine alone
then stared at this poem
expecting something to be different
nothing.
the only life in dead meat
is hope that loiters
slowly eroding
through getting the things i want
nothing changes
except my chain to the world
my care for its corners
its supposed secrets
that is why the cigarette
burns so beautifully
- © Nicholas Shields 2023
Nicholas Shields is a 24 year old male from Melbourne Australia who works in a pub, and writes when he can.
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