The Spiral Spins Black

This poem isn’t a poem for the production of poetically pristine peace,
This poem is a sermon testifying the life of this “Poetic Priest”,
As he endures the chemically controlling powerful grip of “The Beast“,
And fights with all his might to regain himself and be released...

He made a poor life decision,
To open the door to drug addiction,
Which hit him with a mental state prison conviction,
Leading to depression’s suffocating constriction,
Killing any thoughts of self redemption,
Or a life worth living...

Everyday he paid the piper,
With pieces of his soul,
Slowly he lost himself,
To the darkness of this hole,
It swallowed up his sight,
Blinding him from every personal goal,
And changed his path's direction,
By disrupting the stride of his stroll...

He had been here once before,
Though many years ago,
But still he was fully aware,
Of the life it would bestow,
Leaving him standing on the edge,
Of his life's crumbling plateau,
Survival meant jumping into a cold black ocean,
With an impenetrable devotion to swim through the vicious undertow...

Life demands answers regarding his desire to smile or cry,
To accept or deny,
To divide or unify,
To resist or comply,
To deprive or supply,
To disregard or apply,
To live by truth or to die by lie...

He searched for strength within his reflection,
But found nothing but a terminal toxic infection,
That had spread throughout his mind box damaging his self perception,
He created the face he faced while following evil’s underhanded misdirection,
Producing self inflicted attacks of mentally scaring deception,
Self manipulation was another method for administering the injection,
Giving roots to all doubts being grown with the seeds of misconception,
Conceiving the inception of his life’s purpose to become this slow yet ideally fatal projection...

The realizations of his actions were dangerously shocking,
The more he began to understand the painful blows he delivered to those he loves as if he was heavy weight boxing,
The stronger his desire grew to break free from the restraint’s locks securely locking,
Keeping him enslaved by forcing truth’s transmission signal to actively cause mental blocking...

He took a step back,
Now seeing the entire picture,
The dope’s strategy for attack,
Was to mentally and physically injure,
Meth withdraws became the flak,
Waging war upon his chemically unbalanced mixture,
While dope sickness formed a deeply emotional crack,
Allowing his psychological instability to write this unholy scripture...

He’s fighting everyday with tooth and nail,
To break free from the chains of Hell,
He is determined to prevail,
With the complete removal of his tired external shell,
Which had become extremely volatile yet remained frail,
Distorting life's living state to a state of being tragically stale,
And replacing his being's skin with purpose he proudly wears like a crown to avail,
The ability for his personal growth’s expansion with every living breath he can inhale and exhale.