You watch in the media

movies I mean

he drugs kind of culture they brag

on the screen and the streets that

they’ve done all the drugs known to man

from LSD to PCP and weed

and the stories of addiction to feed,

stories of heroin

we all know but

the stories of the pain that drives us to medicate are less

prominent aren’t they.

They don’t tell of the night mares

trampling us down and

waking us up in cold sweats

of the guilt and shame o’er past

mistakes that

haunt us

our demons following us laughing.

I never did hard drugs

I never touched the mushroom clouds of psychedelic

or swam in the ocean of opiate bliss

but I drank sometimes to feel alive

and I partied in bars

screaming at the top of my lungs why no one else

felt the urgency to DO SOMETHING like I did

to carpe diem

to see the night for what it was, ephemeral


and in the smoke filled haze of drunk

my fears and guilt were sunk but

clawing back up and

in the morning I would have to face them


depression and mania like a

fucking see-saw from hell

and I don’t drink much and quit the smokes

but sometimes the echoes of those

manic nights come

burning and screaming back

in my memory and

I feel the sudden

to get incredibly dangerously drunk

smoke three packs of cigarettes

and deal with the consequences

at dawn.


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