slam and concrete poetry by Scout Quinn

View the Project on GitHub scoutquinn/poetry

it’s still a drug

the the more I try the worse it gets,
the more I try to forget.

there's still something missing here
there's still something wrong

whatever's wrong is not in here, self-medication is a bad idea,
    the abberations are a pattern now, there's nothing left to feel somehow,
        and everything you thought you knew comes falling down around you
            when every fucking thought you never knew would fuck with you
                are tearing at your sanity and your understanding of what's true
                    is seemingly a lot more skewed than everything you thought you knew.

comes crashing down around you
and all you feel is longing and pain

it's still a drug.

the answers aren't there if the questions are meaningless
the questions aren't meaningless if the answers are there

this is not the answer.
bleeding and bruised.
the pain is an escape.
the pleasure an emotion
    that they felt so intensely

it's still a fucking drug.

    and you always fucking need it
        and you'll never not want it

never always wanting never nothing wanting never

never escape no escape

it's always a fucking drug.

    there's always something wrong
        there's never nothing wrong and there's never

an escape
it's escape
it's escapism

it's still a drug.

it always was
don't ever think it wasn't

don't ever think