something about substance abuse and loving you

I just popped the second hyrdocodone in less than 24 hours:

and I’m still shaking.

This must be ‘the bottom’.

And I’ve seen the bottom

of a pill bottle,

_______liquor fifth

___________and the bathroom floor,

but I was never this angry

or this motivated

to suck it up,

not throw up

[maybe this is the beginning.]

-

I’ve seen the birthing

of too many addictions

and I’ve taken the path to

______bloody wrist,

________curled crying body

[was never this eye-dry and leg-bouncing]

-

Maybe it’s the air warming my

_____passed-protection,

__________burnt black

_____________but still made-from-glass

_________________heart.

Gut stretched

[don’t feed it]

mind a mess

[can’t navigate it]

pill-passive,

anxiety-high;

no wonder my mouth never knows how to open

and when it does:

tongue tripping

on mixed convictions

and negotiated morals ............... to the point where I can slide against any strange side and pretend it’s you.

-

Listen

to my loose-leaf po-e-tree

and figure me out,

because I’ve never understood first impressions

and how they don’t allow for second chances.

-

So I’m sorry if:

_______- I fuck you than throw a punch at your face because I thought I saw me.

In all of you I see me.

So maybe that’s why sometimes I

_____1) hate you

_____2) love you

and

___3) expect too much.

Disappointment made me,

left me

road-kill dying,

misfit barn cat sucking punctured-lung breathes;

asphalt in my throat.

They say:

______‘be careful’,

but I still tip-toe dance down the middle like:

______HIT ME

__________- car crash suicide.

Yeah, I dreamt it,

only I lived.

You didn’t.

At least there was a .............. real tragedy.

And they stopped asking:

_____why these scars? and

_____why these tears?