it’s only been three days without weed
–
can’t seem to find my feet and just
want to scream because I can feel
myself bleed –
hear myself think –
about being too close to the brink
the brink –
the brink of where I hate to sink:
too far down
too far out and off the page where
depression becomes aggression
and it’s like suspension between me
and
who I’m trying to be
because
the definition of addiction
is confusing affliction with satisfaction
and
I’ve tried too many prescriptions –
lovers that don’t listen
to understand my pen is surgical equipment
to make incisions between my soul
and old memories –
because since I can’t lite up all these things
to play my heartstrings I just scribble
cest la vie
and try to pray:
mother Mary
mother Mary
please end this anxiety and hear my pleas
just let it be –
just let it be

 

TM Colin Corpe 2018