I'm Waking Up

Volume Three

I'm waking up.


I raise my glass, to this life as I walk that line never knowing if what I'm doing is right.

I had lost my faith and came close to just giving up.

Drove hard and fast as I gambled it all on just my luck.

Left abandoned on this highway of pain, this road of misery

lined with banks and gas stations it is a real slaughterhouse facility.

To the Tar pits for our field trips out on this new Vegas strip.


Reach out and strangle someone and when your scared you will always go for that gun.

We allow fear to keep us captive always struggling to find ourselves.

Searching for that reason to keep fighting deep within our own hells

and when that swarm finally does break and you can see the silver lining on the horizon.

Redemption was not cheap, salvation was not easy and one day you will see that sun.

To the pits of hell for our quest to fail, on our dreams we set sail.


There is no voice to the words now spoken, saying everything and knowing nothing.

Holding onto the last of the shadows left in the room as the bad taste is still lingering.

Walking around blind, searching for something we lost but will never again find.

It was the past. It was a lesson to teach us to value and to understand the meaning of time.

Nothing will last if we continue our course. The ship will sink and you will drown.

To this day should I survive it any other way, on the wings of hope I would say.


On the edge of this cliff, the precipice of our sanity becomes the alter to our suicidal tragedy.

At birth we are conditioned to believe in the lie, that vanity even matters.

Talking a big game but still acts like money trumps a child's laughter.

Where greed and obsession became the cancer eating away at man's heart.

These are just a few addictions to our wicked sins that is tearing our souls apart.

To the energy that never dies, a heart that never lies on the tears of those who never compromised.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just finished this piece up a little bit ago, all new. First poem in a long time where I have not used old writings for refrence or ideas. Part of my muse for this piece came from a dark dark place my opiate addiction infact. However my outcome may play out, this I believe is at least a good sign in my own tirals yet to come. Your thoughts on this title? I think I still have a shred of skill haha :)

View matthewwayne's Full Portfolio
allets's picture

Opiate Muse

My muse is confused - just when I have it figured out, she jumps up and down in my head, waving her hands telling me I got it wrong - hey, that's what muses do. I am blue after reading this poem but ..on our dreams we set sail is miraculous! ~~A~~