Needles on skin burning like so many fires
sweat acrid on the tongue, though its vapors are sweet—
the passing shadows breathe deeply
and intoxication follows in the wake of a closing door
somehow telling all who look upon it that they, too are invited
And now the smell of this congregation
sick-sweet opium pulled into their souls
Here where the long pipes are kept always burning
the only windows are on the soul, peering deeper
never out to dim reflections staring back
a mimicry of the footsteps echoing in empty halls
with long, sad stories to tell
all ending at this doorway to a place where all are invited
—
—
Never forget.
—
—
Photo by medium photoclub from Pexels
Very nice Mitch. As I was reading this piece it took me to the movie “The Ripper” and Johnny Depp in the last scene where he is back at the opium den but this time he isn’t awakened as usual. Death found him there instead. Lovely work. 💕❤️Joni
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Thank you Joni (:
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Great wording and rhythm. It leaves me feeling like we are being drawn inexorably into hopelessness.
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Thank you. I think we will soon see the light at the end of the tunnel. At least I hope!
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Me too.
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Nice lines👌
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Thank you! (:
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😊
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Interesting…
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