remember when days weren't based around tens, twenties, deals, nods, secret keeping? remember when a good day was a bump and a nod? remember that first time you upped your dose and fell in love? remember when that dose became the norm? remember the first big purchase you made, the one that was worth more than 100, 200, 300$? remember how fast that shit went? remember how you thought that big ass package you got was gonna last you a week, a couple weeks, and ended up gettin you thru three days? remember when you realized you were in too deep, shit was over your head, you weren't just havin fun anymore? remember the first time the word "junkie" slipped thru your mind, you pushed it so far back in your skull, you let it fall out and dipped out to forget it was ever there? remember the first joke someone made about you, "haha, u dippin out u fuckin junkie"? you laughed, you let your smile cover it up, you left that smile on your face a lil too long as you stared, you thought, you realized.
i am a fuckin junkie.
i am no different from your local bum, your local beggar.
"homeless, harmless, hungry, please help"
i could be holdin that sign. i am holding that sign, not literally, but i'm standing here, crying, hungry, havin no home to go to because i only find solace in my nod. home is where the heart is, right? well mine is in that little blue, green, white pill, that fentanyl patch recommended for pain only needing around the clock opioid maintenance. my pain needs around the clock opioid maintenance, but they don't make medicine for the broken hearted, the souls with holes, the people who walk around cold and dead and only feel alive once that shit is pumpin thru their veins, once their eyes are so pinned they look like they've been starin into the sun for 13 years, once they can't hold a newport in their hand without lighting fire to most and all clothing materials in the vicinity because they can't keep their shit together for 10 minutes to finish a fucking cigarette.
because the pain is so fuckin deep, the cuts run right thru the most vital organ, because no one can fucking touch where i'm at, so i push off, i nod out, i give in to my demons because i'm tired of going thru therapists like cheap toilet paper, i'm tired of "test runs" for this SSRI, that SSRI, this one will help that one, this one will make this one work better. but i know what works, and i know what helps, and you can't fucking touch it, you can't fucking touch me.
when i'm out, when i'm on the run, i'm on top of the fuckin world. nothing can hurt me, nothing can touch me, nothing will ruin me. i'm out, i'm living, i'm running towards salvation. i'm running towards my church, that rundown house on the corner of whatever and whatever. i'm going to my priest to ask for the body of christ, the healing powers of the lord. my dealer in the hood, that magic pill that makes everything better. my altar is his table, my prayer is whispered to the anointed, "just 5 to hold me over". my donation to the church is handed over, slid across pale wood littered with cigar guts and weed seeds, cigarette ashes and powder lines. they are our statues, our saints, the ones we pay to pray to, to light a candle.
i pray to thee, save my soul, i give my pain to thee, send me to my grave, give me peace, give me mercy, give me eternal silence, let my tired soul rest, let me come home. a home without tears and shakes and sweats, a home without the man on the corner taking all my hard earned money, a home where i can rest, where i can love, where i can heal and be whole again. let me lay my head forever.
a-fuckin-men.
i am a fuckin junkie.
i am no different from your local bum, your local beggar.
"homeless, harmless, hungry, please help"
i could be holdin that sign. i am holding that sign, not literally, but i'm standing here, crying, hungry, havin no home to go to because i only find solace in my nod. home is where the heart is, right? well mine is in that little blue, green, white pill, that fentanyl patch recommended for pain only needing around the clock opioid maintenance. my pain needs around the clock opioid maintenance, but they don't make medicine for the broken hearted, the souls with holes, the people who walk around cold and dead and only feel alive once that shit is pumpin thru their veins, once their eyes are so pinned they look like they've been starin into the sun for 13 years, once they can't hold a newport in their hand without lighting fire to most and all clothing materials in the vicinity because they can't keep their shit together for 10 minutes to finish a fucking cigarette.
because the pain is so fuckin deep, the cuts run right thru the most vital organ, because no one can fucking touch where i'm at, so i push off, i nod out, i give in to my demons because i'm tired of going thru therapists like cheap toilet paper, i'm tired of "test runs" for this SSRI, that SSRI, this one will help that one, this one will make this one work better. but i know what works, and i know what helps, and you can't fucking touch it, you can't fucking touch me.
when i'm out, when i'm on the run, i'm on top of the fuckin world. nothing can hurt me, nothing can touch me, nothing will ruin me. i'm out, i'm living, i'm running towards salvation. i'm running towards my church, that rundown house on the corner of whatever and whatever. i'm going to my priest to ask for the body of christ, the healing powers of the lord. my dealer in the hood, that magic pill that makes everything better. my altar is his table, my prayer is whispered to the anointed, "just 5 to hold me over". my donation to the church is handed over, slid across pale wood littered with cigar guts and weed seeds, cigarette ashes and powder lines. they are our statues, our saints, the ones we pay to pray to, to light a candle.
i pray to thee, save my soul, i give my pain to thee, send me to my grave, give me peace, give me mercy, give me eternal silence, let my tired soul rest, let me come home. a home without tears and shakes and sweats, a home without the man on the corner taking all my hard earned money, a home where i can rest, where i can love, where i can heal and be whole again. let me lay my head forever.
a-fuckin-men.
