Fentanyl

winter wracks the mind into submission,

an oppressive atmosphere we dwell within.

the memories evolve into a burden.

we blot it out with ink and fentanyl.

collapsing in the throes among the C trains.

we claim to hunt for love but can’t recall.

our bodies weren’t built for this exposure,

so we escape into the country for a weekend.

an epilogue,

an artist’s cage.

the numbing fog,

the restless rage.

we watch the hills recede into the ocean,

standing on the empty blackened shores.

the scene that we initially desired

leaves us gasping, clutching for a meaning.

an epilogue, (on giving up,)

a poet’s page. (on getting lost.)

the endless smog, (among the trees,)

the restless rage. (and hoary frost.)