Ill-Fated Idolizations
By Harry Sinclair
Heaven and Hell
are mere possibilities
only the now a reality
so hold out your hand
accept all that’s placed
in that delicate palm
make haste before those lines break
don’t you know they tell your fortune?
Your destiny occluded
an unfortunate fate
take the now
and remove the possibilities
there’s no loss
with no direction
there’s no less
with nothing at all.
Take your place
at the dinner table
that dishevelled seat
harbours your print
Behold the bittersweet
peruse the procurable
pick your poison
it all allures
resist any resistance
pursue your temptation
how dangerous could it be?
just a fingertip of taste
just a sniff a whiff
of that sweet sustenance
it all allures
there’s no place for discipline
in this dining room.
See my eyes
neon iris indication,
sword-like precision
prying at every fickle whim
the soul drops heavier than
the sacrilege sign
DROP TO YOUR KNEES
forget silverware
remember your curse
and feast upon
the foul(with gratitude)
indulge before your oblation
a preordained obituary.
The seed is there
already sowed
with a sealed fate
you knew it from the get-go
so go and give what it
̶a̶s̶k̶s̶
DEMANDS
and be happy with what grows
isn’t an apple good?—
poisoned or not —
watch as its roots
intertwine
latch on
and leach
dismiss the pain
a part of the process
you’re used to it anyway
aren’t you, darling?
You know the drill
all too well
recognize the noise
numb to the rattle
let the familiar pierce
its predictable pain
past-proofs ignored
to get to peace
if only for a brief present
do what you do best
dance the tightrope
with no care
for rhythm at all
you know you’ll fall
why not fall in style
¡BANG!
Conclude the collapse
then return
broken and brittle
but all too ready
to feast again.
© Harry Sinclair 2025
Thank you for reading!
Idolization can be confused for love. Addiction can confuse love. Love is confusing, at times. Especially when you’re finding yourself, becoming yourself, creating yourself. It can all be confusing. Remove care and introduce intoxicants and it can fast-spiral into an unwanted, blurred reality of what was once a fantasy.
I have acted a fool in my life. At times.
I have done more for others than they would have done for me. I have defended those I believed to be close, only to realize they would not do the same.
I’ve thought I was happy only to realize it was just the drug. I’ve surrounded myself with friends only to realize we weren’t, we all just did the same drug.
I wish for you all clear hearts and minds when you need them most.
Love to you all,
H. R. Sinclair
*Originally published in Black Coffee Poetry