less than i should,
i keep these foamy
fog-soaked memories
on hold-
pleading with the gods
"no yelling, not tonight"
and the rain relents

i feel a little safer
with just a few clouds
the stability is warm
unlike my hands,
and the majority of my heart
but i'm still here-
right?

or am i just pretending,
sometimes i do bleed
just to check if i am still alive.
sometimes i don't want to breathe-
that's okay too;
i'm on my journey
i'll find my way

two broken bones,
a sprained ankle,
an abusive relationship,
depression,
and mania

i am sensual,
and smart
filled with anger
and compassion;
i am so lonely

no happy birthday,
no beautiful love story,
no more good days,
no more happy endings
no hope

a ten day jail sentence
two stays in detox
not enough meetings
too many drugs
and a lust for change

i'm nineteen
and these years
already weigh me down
with all of their force
relentlessly

i feel what i feel
with such depth and aching despair
my chest is caving in
at times; i am filled with water

i'm a finely tuned banjo
in a sea of horned instruments
and no one wants to play me
or open me up
i'm so closed up

but on days when the mania is gone,
the depression isn't so bad anymore
i have my lovers and
the pills i eat with dinner
work

i'm swallowing down my pride
paying attention and trying to decide
where i can hide my nervous sighs
when i'm in a room of people
and still feel alone

i needed a break
i don't know how to find that
exactly
without the dependence
of chemicals

i am pursuing a lighter path
will it impress you?
my muscles ache
my heart aches
my brain... it aches

finding a way to end a poem
when you're still sad
is the hardest part
of trying to cope
positively

i can't end here either
because then anxiety swoops in
like a hawk
or some other bird she named
when we were under the trees

i'm swimming in a pool
of bad nostalgia
and beautiful synchronicities
i'm so sick of
the ups and downs

i don't want to
have these
bipolar
conversations
where i threaten,
and apologize,
and demand,
and apologize
again

i don't mean to take you
through the ringer
to make you see violence
and mood swings

i don't mean to scare you
when i don't take
my medicine
i don't mean to scare you
when i cry
for hours
i don't mean to scare you
when i scream
and punch things

i never meant to
do those things
like keying your car

i never meant to
drop everything
and go across multiple state lines
with no plans
at all

i never meant to hurt myself
until my arms
were coated in scars

for all of the times
i self-medicated
poked myself with needles
and drank away my pain,
i'm sorry
i shouldn't have taken so many xanax
you're right
i was wrong
again

i never meant for you to be
my caretaker
i hate those words
caretaker
i should be able
to take care
of myself

i'm sorry i am not managing this illness
i am very
very
ill

i'm sorry for the times
i couldn't get out of bed
couldn't eat,
couldn't move
couldn't go to work

i'm sorry for the times
i made tons of post-it notes
filled journals with ideas
bought calendars
and organization tools

i'm sorry for getting your hopes up
i really thought i could do it this time

i'm sorry for my diagnosis
i'm sorry i didn't understand how serious this is

i didn't ask to be bipolar
i didn't ask to be born

i make cases for myself
in my head
but they're all filed as
crazy

i'm sorry i was delusional
paranoid
and afraid

i'm sorry for the drug binges

i'm sorry for melting
fading
burning
and still coming back
alive

these low lows
and high highs

you've been through the ringer

when you're only supposed to be
support, a resource of compassion...
you had to be a caretaker

you didn't ask for this
and neither did i

i sometimes questioned if it was harder on you
to live with someone with bipolar disorder
than it was for me
to live with bipolar disorder

you wanted to save me
but you realized
that i can only save myself

now i'm drowning
and my lifeline is gone

i'm trying to learn to swim
i just hope i do it
before i sink

i'm sorry for all of the ****** poetry
i made you read

i'm sorry

drugs won't wake up one day
to so painfully say
they don't love me anymore

they won't say
it's okay
you have seven days, to pack your things

they won't bruise me
contuse me, or use me-
they won't abuse me

they'll linger on, holding
begging me to stay
gripping me tight

when i try to say goodbye,
they'll keep whispering
"i love you, goodnight"

drugs are my sweetheart
and everyone says she's bad for me
but i love her

she swears she loves me too
i can't breathe without her...
and i can't breathe without you

when i think of my red-haired lover,
i ache, i cry,
i feel so alone

but she, my drug, hums to me
tells me everything
is gonna be just fine

she caters to me,
to my fears, and to my doubts
reminds me that my way is always right

she tells me
another shot of dope
would make me feel better

she tells me
another six lines of coke
would wake me up

she tells me
the bars will make me forget
just like i want to

she tells me
that no matter what
it's all my fault; not hers

she makes me feel so sane
when i'm with her;
so insane, without

the drugs won't wake up one day
and tell me
"it's over"

they'll always be here for me,
even when i push them away
and beg them to leave

they'll always be here
with a helping hand;
we light flames and burn the bridges down

i hate them,
and i need them,
and i love them

if we're over,
if you're gone,
i won't be sober

you said we were
the classic love story
of loving an addict...

It looked like empty bottles strewn around my room and filling the dresser drawers... It looked like being kicked out of the best place I had ever lived, looking back, feeling the guilt in the pit of my stomach. It looked like the tears in your eyes... I saw shame in everyone's eyes like a reflection of my insides, torn up and beat to hell.

It sounded like the pain in your voice. It sounded like heart-wrenching sobs. It sounded like an 808 drum beating inside of my chest, far too fast. Like creaking sounds, and leaves crunching, the shuffle of the doorknob when I tried to break in. A car door opening, my fingers slipping in and out of bags... It sounded like desperation. Voices of reason I chose to ignore. My disease spoke louder.

It smelled like smoke and incense. It smelled like candles. It smelled like peach Ciroc. It smelled like cigars. It smelled like ramen noodles. It smelled like cigarettes. It smelled like puke and self-hate. It smelled like the scent of you on your t-shirt fading away.

It tasted like every bitter Xanax I shoved past my ******* teeth. It tasted like blood filling my mouth, and the ***** on the ground. Like ten thousand shots that were never enough for me to just put the ******* bottle down.

It felt like hands I never wanted to touch me. Like stomach pain, needle ******, full veins, and then numb, numb, numb. Felt like a broken heart and the bumps of the scars coating my skin. Felt like each punch and hit you ever laid on my head, my ribs, my legs... it felt like pain. It was pain... It was pain.

how many ER trips does it take to show that i'm serious? that i never came into this world ready to push forward? when i said i was the phoenix, i intended for you to know that i had to burn myself down to nothing but ashes. i still promise that i will rise from the ashes i made of myself, ascend, and shine so bright that i blind those around me from all of the horrible darkness and show them the light... i am here. i have purpose. i refuse to consume myself, wholly. i am not a part. i am the ever eternal presence. i can not be removed. when our souls come into contact, i am anew. i'm reminded fully of who i am. i hold responsibility, here. in the white space, i make the conscious choice to push forward. my eyes open, and i see things that even you don't.

i am here and i am aware. the water pours over my head, drips down my face relentlessly... a waterfall across my skin. i feel awake. i feel alive.

if i cut my hand open
and bled out
on to the page
for you
and you alone;
would you love me?

if i spewed
endless streams
of hideous
and beautiful
words;
would you love me?

if i dressed up
the right letters,
if i made them look
light enough
to hide the dark;
would you love me?

it takes
many months
fit into
many years
to drink your way to
to smoke your way to
to **** your way to
to lie your way to
to trick your way to
to swallow your way to
to consume your way to
to fiend your way to
to light your way to
to hate your way to
self-sabotage

it is wanting
everything
and denying yourself
everything
you need
to get there

what it felt like was
pain
and then more pain
to remind me
of the pain-
to push the pain
deeper

i lose track of myself
of my thoughts
of my mind
and forget
which lens i'm peeking through

i recall
the taste of your knuckles
and blood
my nose
spilling

did you think i was a painting?
for you to bruise
and abuse;
you covered me in yellow and blue

contusions, and confusion
you threatened me
constantly

and one day,
you will regret this

you'll miss me and i'll be gone

how do you write
when you're
barely able to feel

when emotions turn to
wind
and desperation

if you listen
ever so closely
the melody comes in

the leaves whisper
to me
all night, long,

i forgot where i was
but i think i'm coming to,
while coming up

i'll cling to my writing
like coffee
and cigarettes

the holy books say polyester is bad
but the falsified material felt warm
in the cold of the reaper's air

my veins didn't ache like they used to
instead, they rushed warm
even on nights spent asleep in metal boxes

i don't know how we slept
yet, something about your arms
brought a sense of lingering calm

i hear your teeth grind in your sleep
(it keeps keeping me awake)

i hope you're dreaming happy dreams tonight
(i hope i bring you happy dreams)

my nightmares have been having nightmares
(i might never fall asleep)

my hands crave your hands, in mine, held tight
(it's hard to make it through the night)

i am an artist whose mind simply no longer works
it just stumbles around, falls down, comes to
never says where it's been, and then slips back asleep,
just to dream of a higher, more sweet point of view

my paraphasia brain is filled with disdain,
heavy-laden with woes, vexation, and shame
awaiting a moment of rest, away from this stress
where i'm dreaming a brand new dream, within a dream

where i'm ready to spill out rhymes, in quick time
before the clock runs out of ticks, and out of tocks
just give me some rest... i'll lay my weary head to rest
and upon waking up, i will be free of writer's block

the light turned green
and he put down his phone
and headed home

the roads were bumpy
and curvy and long
like the tracks of a ******

and he thought of his
and hers and in between
and he let his brain fizz

his hands gripped the wheel
tighter,

green collisions
topped with
yellow petals
no,
white petals
no,
red petals
no,
pink petals

i think i'm hearing the colors
and tasting the sounds

do you think we melt in heaven?
i've always liked that thought

melting

the flowers
are waltzing
no,
moonwalking
no,
they're doing the salsa
no,
pole dancing

we're all flowers
learning to dance
in the wind

we're all writers
learning to pen
down our words

we're all artists
learning to drip
paint, quicker, faster

we're all struggling
to find
our waves

i've never danced before

i tried once

i cried

i don't write poems for anyone

i write poems to survive

i need these words
and broken stanzas
like the flowers
need their breeze,
need their water,
need their sun,
need their breeze,
need their water,
need their sun,
need their breeze,
need their water,
need their sun

my liver is black
these words are black
my shirt is black

the flowers stay full of color

i wonder
what
would
happen
if
we
learned
to
love
the breeze,
the water,
the sun,
the breeze,
the water,
the sun,
the breeze,
the water,
the sun,

the same way
the flowers
do

dancing

i never heard nails
on chalkboards
i was never annoyed by
the clock ticking
i never felt rain softly
only CRASHING

i like the rain
i like the pouring
i like the rhythm
perfect//gross
neat//wrong

writer's block
to someone with
a pen for a liver
just means, shorter

just means
i don't care
how many lines

just means
maybe i need

another line

im gonna write this poem i promise

the strings inside her were broken
torn

the threads were bare,
loosely wrapped in plastic

cheap

we couldn't repair her
they said just... just replace her

throw her away
like the ones before

but how

she saved me
through the winter months

guided me
through the humidity

replace her?

"she stopped working"
"give it up"

"this one will fit nicely!"
"don't you want to be full?"

i don't like stores

you make me feel like genesis
i'm eve, and you're adam
our tongues twisted up
in dark temptation
like the name of your cologne

do you like when i tease you?
leaving deep bruises
on your neck
for the world to see?
mine, mine, mine

i scream into your ear
and you pull my hair harder
just before releasing
you say, "i love you"
as you ***

what the **** is a love poem?
poetry is your skin
freckled up and down
but stopping at the shoulders,
halting eternally

our forever is speckled
across your pale stomach
our always is rushing
through your perfect veins
flooding your system

love poems are the words
you spit frequently
passionately, and honestly
blowing them out
like o's, o's, o's

love poems are repetition
but different
"i love you" manifested physically
my hands wet from tears
washed off your cheeks

are you feeling okay?
since i've been yours,
i am whole, complete, full
of love that drips
down my wrists

not blood, but you are mine
yes blood, she is ours
do you melt in my arms
or do i melt in yours
first?

simultaneously, we pour out
our concrete breaths,
heavenly and madly at once
like the love poems
you write upon my lips

we take up space
and fill our lungs
with water, like
children, choking,
under gravity

when we walked
to the edge
did we plan
on sinking?
or swimming?

interstellar plans
took us far from home
but in the end,
i think this is where
we always belonged

with nails scratching deep beneath the skin,
i wonder if a dermatologist could fix damage this deep,
what if the blood never stops running?
i am going dry,
dry with empty lungs and nostrils filled white
and red
all of it turns red, around, breathing
exhaling, a fake apology

she calls it quits,
and i blame myself
blame myself
blame myself
and lose track of rhyme schemes
and syllables
until all i hear is me screaming no
and them painting blame over my face
"it's your fault, yours"

this is what it takes
to say "it's all okay"
a needle here, and a pill there
this is what it takes
to breathe
your love, your kiss
penetrating past the willow trees
deeper than the purple dashes

dark clouds don't go away
they just move
but when i see your face,
i don't want to leave this place
behind
i want to jump into it
with everything
into every city
that your smile
could light up

silver tears, tears, tears
and red shows, shows, shows
and the pink never comes
and black drenches
and yellow cries (fake)
grey brightens
and your eyes, green,
keep me alive

i counted them out
but there weren't enough
reasons to take more,
more like the number of
metaphors in that line

lightning bolts don't hurt
when you're paralyzed

stars twinkled around me
until i had to notice them
until i had to open my eyes

they breathed across my skin
and planted themselves
deep inside my aching chest

i was filled with their light;
i took the leap upwards-
a journey in the celestial sea

i lost myself in the eyes
of jupiter, venus, and mars
freckling my skin like dice

the constellations drove
in donuts, around the sea
pouring themselves out

space was everything
space was always there
in waves of varying gravity

i rode asteroids into
six different shooting stars
until i held the world

the cosmic microwave
filled me to the brim
with it's premordial sound

you are my arm
and i'm falling asleep
you are my pillow
and i'm falling asleep

you are my vein
and i'm falling asleep
you are my sea
and i'm falling asleep

if the gunshot rings through your ears
even past midnight
and you are stuck wondering
when the ringing will stop
or if it will ever stop

if you realize that you can do anything
including stopping the ring
then you can engage in your surroundings
and understand the matrix
that is letting go

then i wonder if you can still stop
the falling of your teeth
in the sink, blood flowing from your soft gums
and when you look up in the mirror
do you see yourself?

i wonder if my body will crack
or burst when it hits the ground
and i wonder how i will handle
the loss of my mother's mother
will i feel her kiss on my cheek?

i wonder what the grave feels like
and if i'm quite ready to express
the swings in my mood or the way
the moon rises and falls to my calling
(do you feel it?)

how can we ever be sure of what we need
and what we want? i don't even know who i am
or what i stand for and ****
when you talk ****, my ******* voice raises
i scream like your father screamed

i scream like he screamed when the blood ran
past his eyes and into his mouth
and i bet you never got over the sound
of the gunshot and the way it resonated
through the house

did you turn to the killer?
what did you say
and if you could go back
what would you say?
what would you do?

do you feel it?
do you feel the kiss
the breath, the trickle
of the blood running down
your wrists

do you feel it?
can you hear the reality
of the world crushing
your eardrums and the
teeth falling onto your piano?

your piano hums lullabies of pain
and when you lose your focus,
does the dream go away?
and when you take those pills,
do you feel it?

he lifted up a white rag
and washed the blood
off of your father's cheeks
and closed it over your mouth
like chloroform

there are no words
for the way my ski
n electrifies when y
our smoke wraps ar
ound our bodies and
sends shivers down m
y spine because you a
re trickling your finge
rs down my ribs and s
ometimes i can not hel
p but think about how
blood felt trickling dow
n my wrists and by the
time you came around
i was so far gone that i
'm more than surprised
about how someone wh
ose smile is always six m
iles wide could love some
one who wants to be bur
ied six feet under and if i
lost the chance to tell you
that i love you, then i don
;t know where i would be
and if i make my bed in a
grave before you do i hop
e you never pick up the bo
ttle again and try to find s
olace because we both kno
w that anesthetics are neve
r any different from poison
s and if your nerve endings
remember my touch and y
our breath gets short but h
eavy when you think you j
ust got a text from me but
you remember that the te
xt will never come; i want y
ou to know that i love yo
u and that you can make it
through anything and if yo
u do just one thing in my r
emembrance then i want y
ou to never ******* drink
my taste away because no
matter how strong you se
em i still think that my p
assing will make you a lit
tle uneasy and a little diff
erent maybe and i wonde
r if you'll cry anywhere c
lose to as much as i used t
o cry on a nightly basis a
nd will you sneak out an
d walk down to the stop
sign where we exhaled a
nd inhaled smoke and we
held each other and ****
man when i laid on the as
phalt i still wished a car w
ould come speeding by e
ven though that's so ****
ed up and this isn't even a
poem it's just a ****** up
story but if you ever love
d me at all, you won't pi
ck up the bottle- you wo
n't take a shot even if it m
eans remembering the tr
igger.

a rush of chemicals
the taste of skin
a diamond in dust
the beginning sin

a tye-dyed mess
her itchy neck
a wolf's howl
she's a wreck

a worthless poem
a puppy's breath
an endless gaze
a bag of ****

smoke fell out of my mouth
the same way you fell
off the edge of this planet

and when i started this job
i thought it would distract me
from the reality of death

because if you're surrounded
by death, all the time,
does it really affect you?

the truth is, i walk past
your headstone and i pretend
you're just another grave

but you've never been anything
like the rest of them
or at all like i was back then

i'm stuck in this benzo haze
fading in and out of consciousness
(it's just another graveyard shift)

i hope if you were here
you'd still love me
(i didn't steal their souls)

i am the protector of all souls
i am only the thief of daylight
(son, it's your time to go)

they come and go
in waves
of secrets and stories
and tears
and laughs
and silly phrases

s.   l. .. w.        he tells you
n.  i      h          he loves you
o.  n.    i.          and he's
r.   e .   l.     ,.   quitting
t.    s .   e...       today, and the lines
                          get longer but he still wants
                          you to stay and when he
          
R E L A P S E S

                      and does too much too soon
                    and you're holding him and
                 you're screaming into the phone
              and they keep asking
                      h
                       o
                        w

much did he do?
and you're
lying and you
snort another
line and you
put down the phone
and when the
police (!!!)
knock on the door
you have nodded
out and he is
gone and you are
bleeding and you
open your palms
and you clutched
the razor so tight
and you cut up
another pill and
you snort the pill
and the door
                                      breaks
                                      down

and you cry and
you swear you
don't know how much
he took and they
tell you he is not
coming back and you
blame yo ur self
blame yo ur self
blame yo ur self
blame yo ursel f
an dyo u f o rgot
h ow mu c h
(h o w mch dd i tk agan?)
a nd
yo u colla ps
a nd you're gone
and the lines
don't matter
anymore

.
.
.
.
.

A person can only trip so many times
Before they fall
Effortlessly
Down the rabbit hole

I told you that you were loved and you didn't believe me.
What made you think that I didn't love you?
What made you believe that you were a lost cause?
Who the **** told you that you weren't good enough?
I want to know.
More so, I want to wrap the noose around his neck BEFORE he touched you,
Before you got the chance to wrap it around yours.

Ever since you left, I have suffocated underneath your death.

I do not sleep with blankets on anymore because I can not stay warm knowing that you are lying cold in the ground.

I no longer open up my windows and let the let shine in because I know that you are drowning in the darkness.

I can not put my hands to the steering wheel and drive because I will never be able to let go of the day that we stole that blue minivan and tried to get away.

I just want to know why you didn't tell us what was wrong.
I want to know why we weren't there.
I want to know why the last words that escaped were: "You're gonna miss me when I'm gone."

When you're gone? When you're gone? You can't be gone. I won't believe that you are gone, that your beautiful body is buried somewhere beneath the dirt when you deserved to stand on stars.

I want to know why you didn't leave me a ******* note, some type of ******* answer.

Because now, I'm stuck. I am stuck, and I am haunted by your ghost. I am missing every bit of you.

I am missing your voice.

I am calling you. Please come back to me.

Your voicemail.

"Hey, it's Meagan! Leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

But you're NOT getting back to me. Sometimes I pretend that you will.

Did you know that I would be broken without you? That these needles are the only thing that can possibly puncture me enough to make me feel again?

Did you know that whenever anything goes wrong, my first thought is: "If only she were here"

When you left, you took every bit of hope from me.
When you left, you took my will to live.
When you left, when you left, when you left,
WHAT made YOU think I was strong enough to handle THIS?!

It's been seven months. I am not sure I can make it seven more.

I have become filled with you, your sweet little laugh,
and the stupid ******* jokes you played.

It was not a joke when you hung yourself.
No one laughed; no one dared make the slightest of sounds.
We held our breath and danced with candles until the moon in itself faltered and fell down.

veins remembering needles and sticky tar
will never stop feeling pinpricks-
girls with trackmarks will never forget
the words men whisper as they get their hits

we spent our summer writing songs,
and burning through packs of cigarettes--
we lit our way through the promised land,
and found that no promise is ever kept

swimming doesn't feel the same
when beach-goers stare down your scars
i am looking for an exit route;
something strong to take me out

ever since you wrapped that noose around your neck,
i have suffocated underneath your death-
what made you think i could handle it?
what made you think i was strong enough?

i often blame myself for your loss;
"what if i was there?" would you be gone?
because *******, i miss you
you didn't have to drown-- alone

you bang, and run, and jump up and down throughout my frazzled brain
my pillow has lost it’s softness- it has become filled with you
your sweet little laugh,
the stupid ******* jokes you always played...

it was not a joke when you hung yourself.
no one laughed; no one dared make the slightest of sounds.
we held our breath and danced with candles
until the moon in itself faltered and fell down.

i miss you
endlessly.
i felt your sorrow when your tears fell upon my pale legs;
i told you that you were loved and you didn't believe me

tylenol won't fix the ache that breaks me,
and codeine has never tasted so bitter--
my lungs are sputtering black dust;
i wish the cigarettes would burn you away

I did not write a poem yesterday
Because the depression sunk deep
Past my skin, into my bones
And collected all of my happy dust

I am terrified to imagine anymore days
Without poetry, without writing--
Have you ever been utterly terrified
To be without your one love?

I am at a stand-still
With no where left to go
But down
       down
       down.

today i did not get out of bed
today i do not feel like writing poetry,
or finishing my novel,
or being productive

today i am my scars,
today i am my thoughts,
today i am exactly what terrifies me
and makes me not want to
breathe, today

I hate Windows 8
I hate myself
I hate hot coffee
I hate cold days,
And warm days
I hate the beach,
I hate skiing
I hate you,
And I hate her, too

the vines must have wrapped around your throat
and tore the life out of you
because now we hardly talk
and when i say i want to die, you simply reply,
"me too."

my arms remember razor blades and spiked needles
and my veins ache to feel the warmth of her
swimming perfectly through my bloodstream
and engulfing my every fear, my every desire
until i am nothing but a pool of sticky tar

my nostrils burn without the powder
flying into my brain, and dripping down my throat
keeping me awake for days on end
and opening up my mind for my pen
shaking as i hold it to the paper; scribble

my tongue dwells on the bitter taste of hallucinogens
that made me dance in the coldest rain
and swim in the smallest pools of warm blood
that erupted from the belly of an orange tiger
who held my hand, and danced to the beats

my stomach remembers the feeling of pill bottles
emptied out; the tablets dissolved
coaxing me into warm slumbers, and forgetfulness
i miss the feeling of letting go
of love, of pain, of regret

suicide,
a silent regret;
freedom

some nights,
i answer the phone
in my sleep

some mornings,
i wake up
with no memory

do not stop at one-ten pounds-
drop down to eighty

do not stop with the first cut vein-
slice until your heart stops

do not stop with one gram-
shoot two more into your veins

do not stop with the noose-
jump with it around your neck

your words do not stop hurting-
i am trying to finish the job

tell me that my poetry is horrible
until i stop slicing myself open
and bleeding words out

tell me that i couldn't write my way
out of a brown paper bag
like the ones you packed in second grade

tell me that my writing is sad
and i'll give a little smile,
and walk away

tell me that you love my poetry,
and i just might
fall for you

Kaleidoscope raindrops fill in low eyes,
and blotter tab lunatics jump up high-
Alice is missing! Chesire's loose!
The Jabberwock is drinking a burning juice
The ceiling's melting, and the clock's been moved;
Hey White Rabbit, you're gonna get bruised.
We need order in our not-so-sober minds,
Oh, Mad Hatter! Could you be so kind?
Have you seen the Caterpillar yet?
Where is he- can you bet?
I'm willing to gamble; that's not tobacco in his pipe-
Let it be known; he's high as a kite!
Alice, oh Alice...
What have you done?

there are
six-hundred ways
to get ****** up
and i am stuck
and conflicted
and sober

once you get that high,
there is no where to go
but down...
       down...
       down...

in weight
in grades
in friends
in money
in days

but you don't care
(unless you're sober)
so you stay
******
until you're forced to stop
                                or
                                until
                                you
                                are
                                                                     dead.

smoke pours and rises up and out of your lips,
and it feels as if you will never stop exhaling