My life has become more than I can handle too. It just feels like I'm stuck in a room full of mirrors, not knowing which direction to go but at this point I'm so stuck I lose either way.

At first I was upset with myself for losing the kids and getting back into ****, and the only way to not feel that was to feel nothing but the drugs ya know?

Then with everyone else upset too, I started to believe everything they said. That I'd never be able to crawl out of this fuxkin hole. My head got twisted and I turned it on everyone else. Like I saw it as you guys all gave up on me because I was being a pos, not because I was destroying myself and you guys couldn't watch it take place anymore.

I thought all my "friends" were actually my friends, ya know? I thought they were sticking around because they cared about me, regardless of if I was an addict or not. I didn't think they were only around because of the drugs, so my loyalty went to them because I thought they were loyal to me. If that all makes sense.

Regardless of how much I wanted to change and get better, I couldn't bring myself to walk away from the very ones I should have. Which in turn, has me sitting there watching everyone around me getting high, and I couldn't leave because I thought that they were all I had left. And I couldn't abandon them like I thought I had been abandoned.

But I also can't watch someone stick a needle in their vein, and get high while I just sit there sober. I didn't think I could do it all on my own, ya know? When I got out of jail this last time, as soon as I got home I got to watch two people shoot up in front of me. I didn't want to call anyone to get me out of there, because I didn't want to make my "friends" feel like an ***, and I expected whomever I would've called to bitxh at me for getting myself into that situation.

Dad died, and we could've said goodbye. You had it all figured out, and I said no because they said he was gonna be okay and I thought it would be best if the kids didn’t go. Not even twenty four hours later we lost him. Not only did I lose my chance to say goodbye to my birth father, I also took yours away too. I could've just kept my mouth shut and ******  it up, but instead I ruined it. A month before dad passed, CYS took the kids from their dad and placed the kids in foster care. Life just became way too much.

I got booked, and two days after I got out of jail M* got arrested for DUI vehicular manslaughter. He told me a day before that, that one of the reasons he did the stuff was so he could stay awake to keep an eye on me and make sure I was okay. At the time it felt like I couldn't handle all of that. I am the reason M had drugs in his system at the time of the accident, to which two people lost their life's. The man who passed away due to the accident, and then M. The man that will spend the next ten to twenty years in prison because he had drugs in his system. All so he could look after his careless, reckless, selfish girlfriend.

Regardless of what I do now, I'm in too deep. Its inevitable that I will be going to jail, yet again. I'm angry because I was actually checking in with probation and stuff this time. I was putting in effort to do the right thing, but clearly it wasn't enough. I can go to rehab and get treatment for my substance abuse, my mental health and all that as well. But after I'm released, I will still go to jail. I'll more than likely still officially lose my children and whatever I have left. Which means whenever I would be released I would still be in this hole.

Or I can run, with **** near the same outcome. I will still officially lose my kids, end up getting arrested, lose whatever I have left. So why not fake it ya know? Why not act like I'm not lost, like the people i surround myself with actually care about me? Attempt to feel alive, even if only for a brief moment before I reach the inevitable outcome that I have set up for myself?

Encrypted vogue and feet painted by Gold.
If it's lies that's being told would you take a single word from the table of the chose?
Watch your TV for it's watching you
Taste victory and never be consumed
Follow your gut because the zombie apocalypse that most do not think it comes ..
Is right at your golden throne

When a boy,
I wanted to be as tall as my father
(he passed away October seventh
two thousand and twenty
linkedin to congestive heart failure),
who stood at his prime
about six feet and two inches
and tipped the scales
close to two hundred pounds.

Teachers and other familiar adults
chimed in that though diminutive
(yours truly, he unwittingly offered himself
as the ideal scapegoat
courtesy being longitudinally challenged,
weighing no more than an ostrich feather,
and hashtagged as "the quietest student,"
a flower child of the ninety sixties
always kept mum every single day of school),
would unexpectedly experience
peak height velocity.

Neither at ages eighteen, nineteen, twenty...
sixty three, sixty four and sixty five
bore witness to any added inches,
which topped out
around my sixteenth birthday
approximately seventy inches tall
and attendant weight a scrawny
one hundred and
twenty five pounds or thereabouts.

Actually since graduating
from Methacton High School
two score and seven years ago,
my weight ballooned
an avoirdupois unit of weight
divided into 16 ounces,
and equal to 0.453 592 kilograms
approximately forty plus times
such said constituent parts
first thing in the morning
after eliminating evacuating
re:excreting ****** waste.

A preponderance of adipose tissue
long since upended my once upon a time
twenty nine inch waist.

Slab of flab protrudes from ab - feel free to grab!

What follows initially written
quite some years ago
when being skinny as a rail meant
no meat on these lovely bones,
thus hired myself out as scared crow,
now excess adipose tissue thy foe
losing battle partially explaining
why knight spends inordinate
amount of time in his grotto.

Twas an incremental
subtle expansion of waist
plus olympic challenge to tie shoes
most likely side effects of one
or all nine prescription medications
to stave off severe melancholy,
social anxiety, panic attack, et cetera
when yours truly merely
prepubescent self starvation courtesy
emaciated Anorexic skeletal ribcage

traced (about two score
and a baker's dozen years ago),
now whereby most everything
thy tongue doth taste
immediately delivered
a randy (new man) paunch
to former washboard six pack
smooth as a fresh application
of gesso like paste
readying fleshy canvass

for partially ****
self-portrait masterpiece
(adjacent to barenaked lady)
lived three doors down
depicting mine once perfectly,
(albeit one scrawny lad)
proportioned body electric laced
with flat as a washboard physique
unlike present disk graced
whereat when sending a photograph

of shirtless self-try with futility
utilizing photoshop to get erased
displeasing equatorial zone of anatomy
saddled with unwanted
fatty tissue that defaced
proportionate rock hard stomach
one generic measly slender adult man
about five foot and ten-inch build
evincing an aura of being chaste
gone forever analogous to temptation

gobbling house constructed
of cake and confectionery,
that nearly did likewise
to Hansel and Gretel
readying their not quite
plump enough bodies
tubby slathered with baste,
yet just in the nick of time
the two abandoned minors
actually removed courtesy

children, youth and
family services (CYS)
under care of adoption in sync
with ***** work
aced the sinister plot outwitting
cannibalistic cackling
croaking old woman
inducing all to break out into song -
singing the following tune
I learned in grade school.

Loose air into pipes and croon
solo loud enough audible to man in the moon.

Sarasponda, sarasponda, sarasponda rat tat tat
Sarasponda, sarasponda, sarasponda rat tat tat
A doray-oh, A doray-boomday-oh
A doray-boomday ret set set
Ah say pah say oh.

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