Sat here observing, you think you're so cool
You're on your 12h line, you look like a fool
The ego is out with wild dominant force
You're back in that bubble, a chemical course

It's quite sad to see you this way
The path of destruction, the price that you pay
For you have lost everything and yet you don't see
Can't enable anymore and next you'll lose me

You don't feel the loss or the damage you've done
Your brain's that ****** up, I now need to run
Guilt plays a big part in why I chose to stay
Your blame game did this, hope you understand one day

See I've started to see this is no life for me
I choose love and life and successful I'll be
You still need to wander that dark lonely road
Destroying yourself whilst your morals erode

Straight from my hands to my nose.
Numb from my head to my toes.

Take a deep breath,  'cause its not
Over yet,
When your heart starts to pound and your head starts to sweat.

The denominations of your conversations,
They turn to elation and full demonstration,
It rings in your head like a radio station,
This rushed and egregious euphoric sensation,
This white lubrication for socialization,

This is what I call *******.

A single sniff of the dry snow.
(Before I drift into another plane..)
With sheer precision. Long and slow.
(Help me when I'm still sane!)

The red car stopped on the arc of the hill at the corner of Corrupt Avenue and ******* Boulevard and let out a young woman with skin a dark brown hue who looked like life had hit her with everything including the bathroom commode.  
"Thanks for the inks and the ride" said the dark brown woman as she got out of the red car.  
"Red and green looks good on your skin.  Can we keep doing *** for tattoos?" said the driver of the car.  The dark brown woman took a peek under the shades she was wearing and said "Sure baby."
"I'll be seeing you Abby" said the man driving the red car.
"Yes you will" said Abby.
Abby turned her back to the man driving the red car and walked up the long stairs that led to a four storey brick building.  As Abby walked up the stairs she got all types of stares from the people leaving the building.  Abby made her way through the big glass doors and noticed an odor.  
The smell was the smell of Marijuana.  Abby followed the odor to the office of Willie Dun.  As Abby entered Willie's office she saw him sitting on his desk with a blunt in his left hand and a liquor bottle in his right hand.
"Abby, baby what took you so long?" asked Willie Dun as he put the blunt to his mouth.  Abby took the liquor bottle out of Willie's hand and put it to her lips and took two sips.  As Abby took off her white shirt she put the bottle back to her lips taking one last sip.
"I was getting tattoos.  What do you think?" asked Abby.  
"Nice art work.  The reason I called you here is because I want you to help me with my campaign.  I'm running for Governor.  You have a lot of pull in the streets.  Are you still a resident of ***** Alley?" said Willie Dun.
"Yes, but I'll only sign my name on your campaign trail if you help me move out of ***** Alley" said Abby.
"Ok Abby where would you like to move?" asked Willie as he took the liquor bottle out of Abby's hand.  
"East Ecstasy Street" answered Abby.
"I can make that happen.  With you on my team I'll have the average Joes votes for sure" said Willi Dun.

written by Keith Edward Baucum

I fumble for my next dose
Blue chalky circles spill
Onto white linoleum
Clicking for every lost meal
Bounce like My shaky hands
No interest in obeying
Nobody ever stopped asking for an answer.

My first vice
Dependant on malnutrition
addiction, in fear
fists coming down, off the high.
there is no such thing as a familiar crash
Always a new drug.
hands struggle without muscle
We shake together.
Indulged in recall
Dissolved in water.

I sometimes feel bad for my first upper
Too quick to cheat
Carbonated me fat
Made my teeth fall out
Drew me into television
Tom and Jerry became my bedtime
I gorged myself on escapism.
After a seisure I would regret that much of this new drug.
I ration just enough
She forces my shaky hand
Insist I never talk to her while the show is on
the show is everything.
a vacuum, dusty room, spotless television
There is never a crash.
Only crippling mania

I won't **** this new addiction..
Her absence is a gateway to new powders
this Killing drug gave me the power to stop craving more.
There is closure in calling a poison by it's first name.
We call ourselves poison from the very beginning.

the little blue pills are my escapists cure.
I always go back to coffee
kept warm, by an indulgence I can hold around family.
I've a curious tongue, an educated pallete.
Seven years slinging uppers, black.

Before I learned how to read a clock
All I wanted was for it to snow
In maine, I'm skeptical when not frozen.
If I made a snow angel, I would never come down.

Snow makes beautiful quicksand.
It's hard to inhale when drowning.
I am also more likely to expand my pallete on oxygen alternatives when drowning.

The ocean has infectious curiousity
Sirens dwell there for a reason.

if I had a boat.
I wouldn't make it past the poppys

Thankfully, I do not have a boat.
Only weak Coffee

The petals fall
One by one
Like a body on the 18th floor
The sky turns dark
The end of a day
Like a brain after an OD
The fire burns up
The trees are burning down
I need a new way to cope
The kids line up
And so does the snow
One by one all day
The walls are getting higher
The room is getting smaller
Oh god I need some help
Take it away
Take it from me now
… Let me have one more

Pain begats pain begats mo pain
series, succession. string, sequence
-a chain
I'd like to pretend that I was surprised
but I cannot feign
-ignorance
woven intricately into the fabric that is me
-it courses through my veins

I realize that it sounds inane
maybe even a little insane
but it is what it is
and what it is  
-is a stain

It's so hard to abstain
from feeling and inflicting this pain
this same pain that's been ingrained
from the generations before
-they opened that door and
lacked the knowledge or strength to obtain
the necessary tools to annihilate and decimate
the entrance into things
that would
devastate, level and obliterate
their children and their children and their children and
-my children

On my campaign to feel less pain
I entertain the demons
Mary Jane and *******
In my inebriated state, I was unable to ascertain
the damage that I'd added to my heart and brain

Nothing eased the pain or the shame
All that I had left was the pain
the pain
the pain

So, there I stood
beating my chest and screaming toward heaven
...praying for rain...

he left you,
you text charlie again
"where are you my love?"
to your plea, the response is clear.
gone fishin'.
"ill be back when i'm ready,"
the harlot says
in the midst of the chaos.

to be brought back to abnormality by the sound of his insecurities leading to your own demise.
you're not crazy.
i'm not crazy.
i am not crazy.
to the mountains and skies,
my brightness and light.
to the burrows and shade,
brought out at late.
i'm questioning my peace of mind
trying to justify another's.

say it out loud in your head, in my head.