That’s a cool thing

You’re a poser, I need some closer, say you’ve done all these drugs, but I’ve never seen you so much as hungover. Ever tweak for a straight week like me? Ever been weak to the pipe you keep? The one that ruins your life, but calls out like a sweet treat. I don’t care, you’re gonna catch this heat. Opioids, benzos, amphetamines, have you ever fiend? Those drugs aren’t cool and I’m trying to keep my cool, but they way you talk about them makes me drool, cause I’m an addict, a high fanatic, don’t claim to know the struggle if you never had it. Ever felt a comedown? it’s painful and sickening, you’ve never been dope sick, and it sickens me. I’m not proud of my choices, but you should be. You’ve never done a drug in your life man. That’s a cool thing.


A letter to my ex best-friend

Let me explain my side of the story, my honest Intentions, my chance to say sorry. We we’re best friends, together like glue. Our bond was strong, but I did what I had to do. Through thick and thin, we had each others back. Enough was enough, when we fell off track. I tried to hold on, but you slipped through the cracks. But I know, I know, you don’t see it like that. You were there for my failures, bad days, breakthroughs, and heartbreaks. Good times, good fun, every night, till the morning sun. I fucked up, and you never said goodbye. I thank you for that, but I think I know why. We always thought you were helping me up, low and behold, you were the reason I was stuck. I know you tried helping me, but you didn’t do that. You enabled me, and that’s a fact. I wanted us to both succeed, but the sad truth was, you didn’t want to get clean. For whatever reason, you weren’t ready. I had to move on, and that hurt me too, but I wanted a life that I could look forward to. Hearing you overdosed left my head at a loss. That could’ve been me when I was blackout and lost. I’m Happy I’m sober, I’m happy with life, I’m happy with ashlee, I’m happy I tried. Life is a series of choices, it’s all up to you. Sometimes your least favorite option is the one you should do. Like it or not, you know it’s true. Life is beautiful when your world isn’t blue. The sun is brighter, the grass the greener, the air is fresh, and things taste sweeter. I hope you took time to read this letter, because I want you to know that sober isn’t a feeling, but it does feel better

Fading memory

It’ll hurt today, it’ll hurt tomorrow, but soon you won’t feel the pain, only a lingering sorrow. You won’t have to worry about relapse, or me letting you down. Don’t worry mama, I’ll be around. I’ll visit your dreams, I’ll be the cool breeze, and the warmth of the sun? That’ll be me. Life will be easier, you’ll be free, I’m better off as fading memory. Remember to breathe, remember to eat, remember that I’ll be resting in peace.

Ready to blow

Addiction took over, and nobody knows, when he hits up the trap, niggas sleep on him like afternoon naps, raise the price, his ten bucks is crap, can’t nab it, but he needs the high, needs the sting, how bad he needs the burn in his nose. On his knees, ready to blow. He ain’t gay, but he needs that shit to feel right for the day, and that’s tragic, but he needs to have it, needs to feel it in his veins or he starts to panic, starts to shut down, right there in the middle of town, in front of kids and adults and cops, and he doesn’t even care because he’s so rundown. If he don’t get help, he’s gonna be one of many who drown. He’ll keep going until he’s 6 ft. Underground.

And I

“I love little baby ducks, old pick up trucks, slow moving trains, and rain”
I hate friends when they lie, always being high, feelings contained, and pain.
I love my neice when she smiles, my nephew who is wild, my youngest cousin to death, and how my girl takes away my breath.
I hate not being good enough, always acting tough, putting on a front, and when people fuck with my homies, because then we on the hunt.
I love my family’s bond, when my girl responds, when my dog cuddles me, and when my path is clear enough to see.
I hate myself, how my writings aren’t on a bookshelf, yelling at my girl, or killing clams for pearls
I love how she makes me feel important, supporting shit of importance, vibin to my soul, and mysterious black holes.
And I