opium intermeshed .

The smell of
Opium

Fills my
room

Stinging my mind
Like salt

To an old
Open wound

That never
Truly heals

Nothing more
Than memories

Within an olden
scene

That plagues
my mind

Any given
Sunday

Often
In-between

Like dead
Sonnets

Upon coming
Monday

Someday it
Shall fade

The scent
of air

Becoming
Fresh

For
everytime

The salt
Does sting

I gain a piece
Of flesh

My wound
Becoming clean

The opium
Intermeshed.