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My forearm looks like a button down shirt,

A little bit oozes out but it never does hurt,

Chase the vodka with tar, see if it can keep pace,

Can’t pee, itch, itchy, images of her the only thing my mind’s eye can trace,

Am I helping or am I hindering with the self destruction,

The quicker I hit rock bottom, the quicker I can start reconstruction?

Weaker each day, 

On the sidelines, as I watch everyone else play,

Right now, life is like a boring reality series,

Die, but why question it when no one cares about the theories,

With family willingly gone and paper thin friendships,

I get high to get low, each time like could this be the end of trips,

Treating my brain like a frying pan,

If you told me you cared, I’d smirk - respond with, ‘you’re lying man,’

I can’t write well anymore, I might not have ever been able to in the first place,

But who cares? It, cliche yes, doesn’t matter as so many exit without a trace,

Love is the best to fix all of this, potent distractions are a far second,

No love, always back to the drugs, always the numbness beckoned…

It’s another day per the calendar, but it’s the same one on repeat,

Get through the entire thing, just to battle tar for another defeat,

I sleep horribly yet I can’t stay awake, a purgatory resembling hell,

I’m alone, she chose to leave, each morning repeats the spell,

A better shot with my guns than with my syringes,

Just like that, for the sticky mud juice I traded my daily drinking binges, 

It’s only been a few months, but so hopeless I almost don’t miss dating,

I feel worse, I lack all vitality, every aspect of strength I witness dissipating, 

Actions: family cares not, Elise cares not, I crash land alone,

They would all disagree: the innate desire to quash cognitive dissonance is set in stone,

No job, no happiness, all that’s left are a few distractions at the Tavern on the Creek,

I nibble there nightly, taking the morsels in a desperate move to paint over the bleak,

4 months ago I would have never guessed this is where I’d be - heroin mainliner,

Ironically, the brown taffy treat is far from a trip to the anti-pain diner,

I’m cracking, I see it happening in real time, a witness refusing to intervene,

As I head into summer I bundle up - my future holds the coldest winter yet seen…