Friday, 30 October 2015


A clouded brain
Opium air
A stench of the tropical
Lethargic lungs struggle for life
Drowned in magic
The oppression of addiction
That I adore

Is it selfish
To expect sad guests
At my funeral
I want them to be 
Extra sad
I want their tears
By bucketfuls
To water the flowers along my grave
For five hundred miles

So in the sorrow
There will be beauty
And from the nectar
The world should bear
A mysterious fragrance
From the life of suffering
That I had bore