Poetry
Late Night Addict
by
Wolf Von Weyden
I?ve lost my fucking mind.
Drilled into a daily grind.
Laughing at the stupid jokes.
Situational humor soaks
The wasteful sale-for-less.
Tell me what is best.
I?m sucking down the powers
Of sugar coated advertisement hours
And chewing on the fatty reality.
Truth of my failing morality.
Her seductive hands hold
My eyes on her busting, bold
Colorfulicious screen.
I don?t care what I have seen.
The violence. The sex.
Waiting for what is next.
Give me more,
My mother whore.
Take my time, my money,
I no longer need my sanity.
Tell me, my god,
Reel me in with your rod
Of tasteless things.
I?ve eaten all the scenes.
A dying man in your hypnotic glare
Taking me where
I am no longer required.
Intravenously wired
To the information from the venomous tree
Of your knowledge and disease ridden seed.
My only release, escape your hypodermic
Needles piercing my retinas, is to pick
Up the remote or walk over and push
Your button. Off, an adrenaline rush
From killing. I don?t need your products,
Your juiced up consumption that sucks.
But my humble hand reaching
While my eyes twitching
And lips dripping
With tongue licking,
Searching for that fix
To keep me in the mix.