Unveiling the Dark Seduction: Nyashadzashe Chikumbu’s “Thou Art Opiates” Explores Addiction Like Never Before
Ever caught yourself wondering why some escapes—like a casual puff—feel less like relief and more like a slow dance with shadows? This poem nails that paradox perfectly: Mary Jane isn’t just a fleeting high, but a mental fog that muffles yesterday’s regrets and torches tomorrow’s chances before they even bloom. It’s funny—smoking sorrows like barbecue ashes sounds almost poetic, but beneath that, there’s a ticking bomb of resignation, a fragile asylum where broken bridges become the fuel for yet another clouded breath. Reading this, you can’t help but ask—are we lighting up our own cages or simply searching for a flicker of freedom in smoke? If you’re ready to dive into this mind-altering, melancholy haze, join me on this poetic journey. LEARN MORE
Drowning, an oblivious stupor.
Mary Jane hanging on black-toasted lips.
Mentally intoxicating like a spoiled dipper.
Anodyne pot, we smoke the sorrows of yesterday, barbeque ashes of tomorrow.
In that drunken cloud, puffing
on broken bridges.
Supplanting flowers of rue with weeded grass.
That mental manacling opiate, a ticking asylum bomb.
