Through Pain I'm Real (extended)
by E.J. Crowe

I awoke
smothered in a swollen pile of percs and blood.
Dizzy.
Shaking.
Guilt splitting my head like a rusted axe.

I tell myself I’ll be fine.
Carving a life out of empty 40s and pills.
Why do I do it?
To cope?
To make this fragile experience worth it?

We call it fun—
getting depressed,
heart shattered and wrecked.
Looking into the void,
not knowing it stares back.

The siren’s call of Pandora’s box...

Sniff pills.
Drink.
Clear my head.
Get on my skateboard.
Slurred words.
Stumbling.
Sweating.
Crashing.

Only knowing it’s real
when I bottom out—
sprawled in the street,
bleeding and scared.

Only then
do I know this is my reality.
The demons and voices
silenced forcefully
by heavy doses of narcotics
and Newport 100s.

And I can’t help but smile—
my dissociated state
finally grounding me
back to something.

Through pain,
I’m real.