"Sugar It Is"
By E.J Crowe

I sit there at my dinner table
under the flickering bulb of the lamp.
My eyes—heavy.
My heart—corrosive.

I grab my coffee,
staring at my gruesome reflection
in the cup.

I don’t like what I see.
A man who's given up.
A man who used to be a lion...
but now resembles a lamb.

I throw my cup—
BOOM. CRASH.
Glass echoes in my skull
like a banshee's scream,
lingering,
filling my soul with acid and rot,
venom and hate.

I fall to the floor,
tearing up.
“I—
AM—
BETTER!!”

The light flickers out.
Dead.
Casting elongated shadows
across the wall.

I laugh.
I reflect.
I rejoice.

My life is far from perfect.
Since I was a young man—
filled with **** and fury—
I was labeled damaged goods.

A young man ****** at the world.
****** at school.
****** at my parents.
My foster home.
My life.

But no one takes credit
for the very monster they created.
Guilt shifting
like a sideshow
on a busted projector—
society projecting
its insecurities onto me.

But I smile.

I pick up the shattered glass.
Too numb to feel.
A piece slices my hand—
I stare at the bright red
bleeding in the dark kitchen,
reminding me—
I’m only human.

I grab another cup of coffee.
And instead of sugar...
I put in crushed Percs.
…I mean Oxys.
…I mean Adderall.
…I mean—
sugar.

I’m not that beast anymore.

I’m me.
Broken.
Beautifully flawed.
A human.

Sugar it is.