coolies.

And Gore Vidal.

Christ, by the end...? I was still a communist. My suggestion, keep the last stanza and eat the rest.

sardonic sarcastic cynical cyanide words

What do you mean by 'deep'?

Well, at least you tried.

Not feelin this one. sorry.

Two appropriate uses of semicolons. -10- and -10-.

Gawd. That's long. I know, you get that alot.

"stepped upon a landmina." - okay, thats brilliant. The rest, gradually less so - but still a -10- if ever I saw one.

excellent (period, full fucking stop).

Immediately turned off by seein "Purple" and "hazey" together - but I'll keep reading... hmmm. I like the last two lines - but I still don't know what it was about.

Was liking it until "My reality's blurred " then it lost its charm.

I don't think you really pop pills. Sorry. Now I'm asking myself, how would a real pill addict write this poem differently? And I'm thinking, probably by not writing at all. Or by not writing a poem about pill-popping. So, there are all sorts of tricky issues you could put in this poem - touching on, among other things, the authenticity of the authorial voice, the general Barthian meta-ness of writing a poem in which the narrator - obviously not a pill-popper - pretends to be one without really expecting to be believed (and is, for that reason, more believable.) That would really be something. Or you could just write about your own life instead.

I like this. Good job.

I think this is more about a feeling....wanting to take the drugs to kill the pain...not so much in actually doing it. Been there myself...I like it.

This kind of makes me think that Hendrix and Jim Morrison got drunk together...

I like the ideas....but a little militant...

May I say, without any unintentional equivication, that this is the shittest thing you have done. My three year old niece produces more thought provoking stools. Correspondence may not be entered in to, this is just plain shit.

CAPITAL, critter! Stoned obfuscation, Facial Fuzz, no cock.