by Michael Heubel
Artwork “Shutters on Shutters” by Holly Harris
I met a man from an antique land Veins dripping poison opioids And something vaguely humanoid Called out to me alone Eyes settled on a metronome Metering my measurements, and thus the journeys spoke: "I traveled further than most and Discovered many things But I couldn't bring to mind my mind When they asked me what I found." A pause for reflection and a re-up discovery Fevered eyes wide wise with clarity "My bloods are bringing unto me These versions of my memory Strange things, they spoke to I Dark novels borne on different tides But with no proof there was no truth And so my words were lost on them." He rambled on increasingly With opioids unceasingly Creating in his visions these Delusional realities "A statue out among the sands still scribing silent history The frailty of humanity, oh! The uselessness of memory! His name was Ozymandias The king of ages past The ruler of the shifting sands The Nameless City named at last." And with no proof He hadn't truth And thus his words were lost on me "A placard saying struck a chord And here it is again," he said Revealing up his arm, the harming Needle pricks were evident The journeys spoke of precedent And lonely disaffection But handcuffed to a happy fierce Addiction to his memory I leaned upon the railing, still Intrigued by his calamity The ranger Well The journeys spoke Of heroin, his heroine The mistress of his fortune The harming needles arming me For all the revelations "Good thing my journeys are for me," said he "Good thing my mind is floating free," said he "Good thing I'm free of tethers Free of sadness Free of pain..." The traveler paused with agony Eyes dilated with leavening Contentment or complacency? "At last I'm free of everything."