The High Guy
Bluelighter
This is a short poem I wrote the last time I up on meth for four days and just before approaching a terrible come down. It was also when I realized I was starting to develop an addiction and my girlfriend and I had just almost overdosed on an inconsistant batch of tweak. Theres a small tribute to Metallica's Master Of Puppets in here as well, I thought it to be appropriate since both are about a popular drug addiction. Hope you enjoy it.
-Crystal Springs-
Temporary, sanctuary,
until you're back to the scary,
make it last, crush broken glass,
until you're torn and weary,
bump yourself, dont let you fall,
and so you take it all,
soon your only function,
is wondering why the self destruction,
and desperately looking for the junction,
holding head in hand,
soon you're destined for the promised land,
and can't get there soon enough,
you wont be saved, your path is paved,
and you've earned it thick and rough,
you thought it would be nice,
if you could hold the dice,
and just roll them once or twice,
but now you're trapped within the vice,
you've created out of ice,
once its in you, torture within you,
there's nothing you can do,
you had your chance to heed the wise,
and all it took was one,
just load your weapon, and light the fire,
in your hand is the smoking gun,
between the hours of 10 and 2,
repeat, repeat is all you do,
and soon it's all you know,
the pain will grow, you reap, you sow,
and you wish it all would go,
is all hope truely lost,
do you even care anymore,
you had the key but now it's lost,
behind addiction door,
you wish for death,
don't hold your breath,
the pain is all you know somehow,
the pain subsides, the reason why,
the end is all you're holding now,
you're master of puppets,
you hold the strings,
it answers all your needs,
little do you know, where you hold those strings,
is on your hands and knees,
the trip is over, you're getting colder,
within the crystal springs.
Temporary, sanctuary,
until you're back to the scary,
make it last, crush broken glass,
until you're torn and weary,
bump yourself, dont let you fall,
and so you take it all,
soon your only function,
is wondering why the self destruction,
and desperately looking for the junction,
holding head in hand,
soon you're destined for the promised land,
and can't get there soon enough,
you wont be saved, your path is paved,
and you've earned it thick and rough,
you thought it would be nice,
if you could hold the dice,
and just roll them once or twice,
but now you're trapped within the vice,
you've created out of ice,
once its in you, torture within you,
there's nothing you can do,
you had your chance to heed the wise,
and all it took was one,
just load your weapon, and light the fire,
in your hand is the smoking gun,
between the hours of 10 and 2,
repeat, repeat is all you do,
and soon it's all you know,
the pain will grow, you reap, you sow,
and you wish it all would go,
is all hope truely lost,
do you even care anymore,
you had the key but now it's lost,
behind addiction door,
you wish for death,
don't hold your breath,
the pain is all you know somehow,
the pain subsides, the reason why,
the end is all you're holding now,
you're master of puppets,
you hold the strings,
it answers all your needs,
little do you know, where you hold those strings,
is on your hands and knees,
the trip is over, you're getting colder,
within the crystal springs.
