These downers have me laying in bed watching light flares float across my room like the ghosts of my past float across my eyelids.
And I’m convinced these drugs aren’t going to get you out of my head anymore.

The rooms too hot and I’m too cold and I’m crawling towards the kitchen begging for someone to get me some ****** water but then I remember....
it’s just me as usual.

I get up and take control of the situation and find some uppers in the hall and ask myself if maybe we can work through this or maybe I’m just high enough to think you’re still around.

I’m drowning in a bathtub full of rose petals I found under the sink and I’m staring at the water drip down the shower walls as I watch my inevitable breakdown drip down my eyelids.

I guess I’m convinced these drugs just made things worse and I’m convinced I gotta get my **** together... I gotta get myself together.

Welcome to the house of addictions: please, leave your assumptions at the door. . .

             I emptied my pockets
I sorted the change
                My conscience receding
Mentality, deranged

                A straw in my nose
And a blade in my hand
                The velvet of breathing,
Crushed on command

                A line of white rabbit
Appears on my desk
                Clean, and well sorted,
Yet I am a mess

                If a substance is stronger
Than myself, alone,
                Perhaps I should ***** it
Addictively prone

                For, the path of assumptions
Undoubtedly leads
                To the house of addictions
In which you’ll find me. . .