I stare inside an empty chest
Where used to, there be such a mess
Panic, fear, urgent anxiety
To certain varieties of these drugs
I make a toast to my sobriety

A right of passage,
Was my consumption.
What I chose to do
How I chose to function
My takings of nothing and making them something
Are nowhere to be found,
Except away from me, running

What’s gone is gone
What’s mine is mine
What’s outdated and failed
For it, there’s no time
No rhyme or reason
No proper season
No excuses
Now, we’re even

This heart shaped box
Was in disguise
Though it told truths,
Now they are lies.
Truth is subjective
It’s all about time.
Mine has now changed,
How sublime!

Full of love,
Not driven by it.
No reckless outpours,
I keep it quiet.
And in my mind,
Rather than a riot,
The fog is cleared.
I’m glad I tried it.