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May 2014
Not much like this high.
Your brain about fifteen seconds in
advance of your body. Staring around
at your friends. Blood dripping
from your nose. They don't tell
you about the nosebleeds. They don't
tell you about the burn that guts you out
right behind the eyes. The ache in
your chest as your lips curl and your
eyes roll back. Not much like this
high, boys and girls, not much.
Chopped and cut; a one way ticket
to El Dorado. Your spine breaks as you
attempt to stand. Your legs buckle. Time passes.
You're on the porch, knee deep in the pool,
******* it feels good. Time passes.
You can't eat. You can't drink. You can't blink
Not much like this high. It don't last long though.
Here comes the tide rolling in. Here comes
the Downs. Down down down. Killing yourself
is too much to pass up on these days. Too much
going on not to take a trip. Get up. Get away.
Haven't eaten in days, just crank. Chop up.
***** up. Line up. Inhale. Don't forget to breathe.
Saved a hundred dollar bill for the occasion.
Break it in. Go go go. Quick, before the
Downs come. Go go go. Screaming from
the inside out. What have we gotten
ourselves into? Vicious cycles and
bad habits that won't break.
Vicious war within ourselves; broken bones,
nosebleeds, and all of everything burnt out.
Our souls turn to ash as we lean in closer,
and laugh because we know we shouldn't.
Written by
Craig Verlin  San Francisco
(San Francisco)   
641
     Craig Verlin and Pushing Daisies
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