Addicted to Pain Killers
By: Joel Faypon
October 10, 2003
Auras glow brightly on this day.
Cheers and smiles nourish my battered spirit.
Restoring the strength that I have lost,
while sucked by the grind that enslaved me.
It is amusing how hypocrisy or rather the death of it
springs out on a Friday.
Whispers scream lightly into my ears.
At least that is how I perceive the voice of children
as they sing and dance to lighten up my load,
here - in the depths of my consciousness.
Hearts beat often to the rhythm of other hearts,
luring each other to a cure.
Sometimes forgiving.
Sometimes forbidden.
But just like the addictive promise of
Fridays that cuts me.
Just like the addictive voice of
my children that traps me.
Love - so much as it sourced my blame,
devours me in its irony of being one of the few things
that can kill the pain.