poppies and mask

I liked the rush, I liked the crunch
Never did I look back at the fallout
All the unravelings and beginnings
and  whispered stories were
fodder for adventure
there in dark rooms
where strangers were lost
and found and lost again
Somewhere where forces
waited to devour innocence and
screams went unheard behind
curtains of steam and flashes of light
Where once sensual, exotic women stood
in corners, watching, as their hands
folded nonexistent laundry and men
recited poetry, recording the chore
Changes evolved slowly
with each pill and each pipe —
ones destined to bring each
to a place where nothing mattered
to a place where memories were left to die
Scrawny bodies, tired and worn,
finally gave into despair
gave in, chasing
that first rush
The fallout measured
in failed lives
and occasional

photo: pxhere
prompts: #366FF, #DimpleVerse, #tspoetry, #MLMM, The Sunday Whirl, Sunday’s Whirligig


note: This is purely a fictional response to prompts.


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