Intoxicated

by Fiorella

Published March 1, 2010

You are the poison I want more than the cure
But the voices are screaming they can’t take this anymore
They all tell me to fight but they won’t say what I’m fighting for
You are the poison I want more than the cure



Running through my veins like the trains of thought that once made sense
Running all over again to embrace the electric fence
Trying to cover my bloodshot eyes but it’s just false pretence
Hey surprise, you’re all mine, don’t even try and put up your defence



They say that I’m high but the sky’s never seemed more alive
The adrenaline drip’s like a waterfall of dead butterflies
I’m sick of any colour that can’t be found in your eyes
Even though my dear it feels like acid just at the sight



They say my heart’s in overdrive but they don’t see it’s dancing with you
They try to pin me down, shock me; they say there’s no time to lose
They rush and they fret but I think that they’re all just confused
Because they sighed and they cried when I replied they should join us too



Left the monochrome for a poison that I can call home
For now I am blind both in mind and sight right to the bone
After holding your gaze for several days I couldn’t see anymore
So I chose too much poison for there could never be enough cure



You are the poison I need more than the cure
As I bleed scarlet kisses collapsed on the floor
All that I have is the one truth, all of which I’m sure
You are the poison I shall always adore



Crit welcomed :)

Comments & reviews · 2
User avatar
tori1234
Review
tori1234 wrote a review Review · Mar 2, 2010

Fiorella wrote:Crit welcomed :)


No criticism needed at all! That was beautiful! I love how you make it rhyme and flow very nicely with out it sounding forced. I can just feel the emotion dripping off the lines of this poem!

I can't wait to read some more of your poems. :) Make sure you keep posting!

User avatar
Quetseli
Comment
Quetseli commented Comment · Mar 2, 2010

It's a well written poem! The only thing I have to say is to remember poems don't always rhyme. Somethings you said confused me, but I understood your purpose. But other then that, good job and keep it up!



'This must be Thursday,' said Arthur to himself, sinking low over his beer. 'I never could get the hang of Thursdays.'
— Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy