The Shit of Adim Witt

At ease and staid,

I slashed my vein.

Strange,

the pleasure I felt from the blade.

Pain…

Pain did not resonate.

No…

No!

Redemption bade!

Commotion faded!

Ahhhh, and as my nasty arm skin slowly flayed…

My soothing despair heartily praised!

Sweet music raised-

I lazed, hollowed like Hadrian

As The Cremona’s played.

At last, free from the inane masquerade!

But near the moment I reached the end of the maze,

When my lifeforce be almost razed…

Hark!

An exclamation of both sorrow and aid,

‘You’re making a mistake!’

Came from my brain.

What transpired…I cannot give an accurate admission.

Slick with the intercourse of insanity,

Pinhole vision,

I stumbled to the streets,

That nasty perdition,

Blood streaming,

Screaming,

Just another lunatic without a partition.

Next came loud voices,

Then rough hands,

Gushing hypodermics,

Frisky whirls and swirls,

A brilliant sun surge,

Followed by swaddling,

And ligatures!

I’m doing better now, constantly baked.

From this room I can’t see the mess I’ve made.

Yet even now when I’m at ease and staid,

When I have no reason to whine and complain,

When I recall me brain screaming, You’re making a mistake,

Mmm…

I miss the pleasure I felt from that blade.