I'm scared.
I don't know what I fear.
The walls are scaring me,
Like they did last year.

I'm scared.
I just want to know
Why something is still so painful
Though it happened long ago.

I'm scared.
My eyes water, my chest is tight.
You know something's wrong,
When all day long you dread the night.

For truly, I am scared of the dark,
Of it's voices, its talent for decay.
I spend my long long nights,
Praying for the safety of the sun,
And the comfort of the day.

I’ve seen a fiend inside me,
who seemed destined to be,
so attentive and aggressive at manipulating,
these doctors and these nurses
whom when they see me,
they lock up all the pills,
and then they swallow the key.
But I moan and I groan to own the script that I seek.
Let insurance pay my habit,
now my checks spent on ****.
it might be a life without light,
but to me,
its alright i’m just fine
so stop worrying please.
If I need some help then you know,
you'll hear it from me.
But until then just chill,
while i **** these zanies.
Once I’m gone then I’m gone
and i know that I’m wrong,
coping with prescriptions just to string me along.
Cause addictions a sickness,
and a big ***** to live with.
Your mind plays these games,
and fools you with tricks which,
say it’s okay,
and it starts to convince you,
you cant walk without your crutches,
when life starts to trip you.
And thats when it hits you.
The fact of the matter.
Which gets even sadder.
The higher I was,
the lower the ladder.
The lighter the buzz,
the chase even faster.
Used to smoke bud,
like some just for laughter.
But moved onto drugs,
that sent my life down to crapper.
So i just flushed,
and rushed in a new chapter.
Not saying I’m perfect,
but it works if you work it.
I wouldn't say I’m an addict, just a curious person.

I love the way you're positive
And always lift me up
I cannot seem to comprehend
The way you're full of love.

I thought we all had our bad days
But you push though all of yours
You smile in so many ways
I love how your hope endures.

You're the best inspiration
That I've met in a long while
So many in your position
Saw joy as out of style.

I'm glad when I'm around you
You mean so much to me—
Everyone would say the same, too
That you're amazing, Bree.

You promised
f o r e v e r ,




                                 *Your definition of              
                                   forever was a lot
                                   shorter than mine.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about using every day.
I have dreams about those little yellow pills,
they don't speak to me,
or appear any different than they are in reality,
I just dream about holding them in my hands.

I couldn't do it,
recreational drug use.
I never could
no matter how many times I told myself I wasn't addicted, the truth remained
that I was.
I would tell myself "what kind of ******* is a drug addict, you're not, you're fine."
But I wasn't.
And everyday I have to tell myself "no, you cannot take those pills because you will not be able to stop"
Some days it ends there,
others I get as far as dialing my dealer's number.
Most days it's in the middle.

Being an addict is about having habits;
wake up, take three, (don't eat breakfast, the high will fade faster). Take four once the feeling leaves your legs, and four more before you go to sleep, so you can sleep.
Rinse and repeat; rinse and repeat.

Sobriety is the same way;
wake up, convince your self you don't need it.
Rinse and repeat as needed.

She helps, but she can't replace my addiction.
Although she gets me high, I can't become addicted to her, her lips do not have opiates hidden within,
but they have something better.

I don't think about getting high when I'm with her.
The high I get from her kisses is not dissimilar to that of methodone,
only their is no crash.
The high I get from caressing her thighs shares a likeness with *******,
except it costs love, not cash.
The high I get from hearing her gasp my name as our love making intensifies is very similar to that of hydrocodone,

only much, much better.

I wish I had a time machine to go back and kick my own ***.
Or at least try to talk some sense into myself.
"Listen kid, this **** doesn't bode well. You're burning alive and headed for hell."
Maybe writing is its own kind of time travel.
Billy Pilgrim knows what I'm talking about.
"Chin up child. Stop playing wild. I know you're trying to make your own style,
but you'll lose more than you'll gain."
But before I step in and turn the dial, my future self comes back to slap my hand.
"Let it be," I'll say to me.
One day you'll understand.

Sitting beneath a starry night
I reflect on the fire of my life
Cold beer don't quench my thirst
So I'll settle for being thirsty
because once you stop wondering
you stop wanting
And when you stop wanting
you just stop
and life just ain't worthy
So while I know the things I desire
what I seek is a goal
I just may never meet
Not meeting it doesn't mean I won't succeed in it
Just means I don't ever plan to put out the fire