Bottled Euphoria


A hangover pulses to throbbing life
Sour hands clamped, clammy and slick
I can still taste the mirth of euphoria.

Control was as elusive as ever
But the weight of emptiness
Had lifted me above all care.

Laughter had bubbled within me
Frothing forth from nowhere
Artificial cheer is too fleeting.

Addiction may be racing at my heels
Leftover second chances peeling over
Redemption cold in an early grave.

And yet I’d still rather pay the price
Than hunt for happiness
From myself or anyone else.

[AN- I made this typography wallpaper about a year back in an attempt to incorporate a subliminal message. It wasn’t wholly appropriate for the poem but I couldn’t think of a better image to use. Somehow relying on Google images every time I write a post makes me feel like a freeloader.

Disclaimer: I do not smoke or drink. I do not have any moral biases against either, apart from the obvious damage they cause to health and well being.

And I have got to curb these run-away sentences!
Have a great weekend.]


4 responses to “Bottled Euphoria

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