Getting High On My Own Supply Poem by Yvette Sweet

Getting High on My Own Supply


Today’s message begins with a note to self – What makes you tick stand on your head and do tricks? What makes you rejoice and blow kisses unto the world while pondering Malcolm’s speeches? What makes you crawl in mental deserts –hands and knees scorched—just burnt and you refused to get them treatment? Getting High on my own supply— Love Junkie carrying a blazing torch. F*&ck it –it’s too hot -I’m sweating and its only 33 degrees. Just above freezing but still I’m stuck –getting high on my own supply loves’ victim or loves’ culprit what is it that you’re pretending not to see?



Could it be that the things I THINK I love about you I HATE about me? Come child and sit for just a spell and rest your weary eyes-for when they are truly rested you will truly see what you believed was hiding in damp and darkened spaces could someday be free. X-rays and CT Scans will never reveal the fear and loathing that loving the preverbal/under developed you has made me come to feel.



If loving you means… whatever it means… I stand here guilty as charged, waiting for your tongue to stoke my emotions and your charms to keep me warm.



In this year, Sweet woman I charge you with finding a definition for the word (LOVE) that flows so freely from your tongue. Find it – Be it – Bring it and your work here will be done.



By Yvette Sweet