I Am High
I am hopelessly high
drinking clouds
through this cut up mouth of mine
I let the cold slide
down
down my tangled spine
and it turns
my useless legs to golden
lead
and I can't let go
of my brittle bones
they break like glass every time I
inhale
but I just can't stop drinking in
what makes me high
what makes me alive
and what kills me inside.
This poem is about:
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: