Can't sleep. Wakeful for days. The pain starts.
Thought I could beat it. Thought again, wrong as ever.
The consequences take form shortly after my mistakes.
Already too far behind me. Already flown through.
My frantic fingers tremble, trying to close.
Reliable depression.

Shuffle. Shuffle my feet. Long dark streets.
Pit stops in bars for drinks in smoke. Cigarettes. Cigars.
Like I'd ever find love tucked in such slow dives.
If stimulants may save me, I'll smoke some more ****.
Against the outside building, heart open.
I hear your quiet words.

Over the traffic. Over the clubs. Their lines.
For once I follow the feeling. Not shy away.
The music singing from hidden lips.
I must see them.

I’ve wasted a good bit of my life doing this.
I am ashamed and chalk full of regret right now, but in a few minutes, all those terrible demons will be driven away.
I am expecting a package to be delivered.
Spent the whole day idling in wait. Lolling, rolling, indolently knolling my attention bell.
Listening, for that fateful moment when the car would ram through the building’s gates and park itself, figuratively, with the desired goods in tow, capriciously.

A few half hours away, in a thatched hut next to the railroad tracks that lead up to here, a sprightly old man impatiently tosses out bags of lush, matured, ambrosia.
He’s ecstatic that we’ve come at 5 am to purchase his valuable merchandise.
A half hour of window shopping later…. Transaction complete!!.
The return is swift, silent. Nervous.
One hundred grams. Enough to have your grandchildren have children without you around.
One moment, the cabin is quiet. Another, and the seat is on fire.
Rabid vibes this early in the day can only lead to one thing.
The Law! Everywhere you look… Eying you like they know… Like they all know.
But they want you to think that they don’t so they let you go. And you’re left to ponder the tragic possibilities of “what if.”

Pacing the room, I see what I’ve been expecting, finally arrive.
Clenching the door’s handle with my eye ball driven right up the peep hole, my heart bursts into flames.
The door is flung open and in it comes.
Squares of lush green, lengths of buds serene.
Aromatic and hypnotic. Retardation and euphoria.
This moment vs. What the hell was I talking about?
In a circle of tyrants and philosophers we’re lost choreographers of affluent lives.
******* slow at the fire inside, that shows us how we forgot to cry.
Delivery complete. Demons extinguished. Attention bell is ringing loud and clear.
Gentlemen, this meeting is adjourned.

I knew a girl who was as highly strung
as Blanche Dubois
She had a sweet soul,
one of the last real ones perhaps:
vibrant and compassionate, any time of day.
I offered her the cure
to her constant plight
and once she let it in,
it eased her zapping mind.
But the brain still relentlessly
swishes
and
swallows
every good thought in her domain,
until it’s coated
in an atrocious slime.
‘Anxiety,
go for a holiday’
I heard her chanting one afternoon
from mid-battle ground...

You got wheels
Come pick up the cure
Feel the peace beneath your feet
It’s always been there honey,
You just gotta let it
paint your landscape: bright.