Addiction: Living Death

November 24, 2004

Not sure how this one slipped through the cracks. Couldn't find it in the folders it should have been in. Fortunately, I have a hard copy.

I am not now, nor ever have been, addicted to any narcotic or drug (except cigarettes, but I quit them). The poem is about a variety of addictions. Let's face it; our favorite sin is our addiction. The Bible tells us that sin is death. So while we are committed to sin, we are walking around dead. Check out Romans 8. I'm still trying to wrap my head around everything in that chapter.


Addiction: Living Death

Flies swarmed about his head
     screaming curses in his ears.
Sickly sweet stench invaded his nostrils
     like the impotent rage of a rapist.
Grainy blurred images
     imprinted on fading brainwaves.
Caked eyelids clenched shut,
     anal retentive against the light of day.
Collapsed and drying lungs
     heaved and hacked breathless sighs.
Lukewarm mucous clogged the vocal cords
     that may have spoken if they had something to say.
Internal organs oozed precious fluids
     flooding the chest cavity.
Flesh clung to brittle bones
     like an insecure lover.
Standing in the loosened waste of his bowels
     his feet could not, would not move.