drugs.

at 6:00 am,

after being awake for twenty one hours,

my left calf abruptly contracts.

agony shoots through my entire body,

and as the day goes on,

it gets harder to walk.

perfect, i think.

this is what’s supposed to happen

after stopping seroquel.

//

if i eat a cashew,

my throat will tighten,

my face will break out in hives,

my stomach will bloat,

and my heart will race.

well, i’d best read the ingredients list,

because epi pens cost too damn much.

//

no! fentanyl is addictive! it’s a fucking opioid!

you’re not giving me any painkillers.

what if i accidentally come out as gay?

i need to remember everything!

“i’m sorry, i can’t perform the surgery without it.”

fine, use your fucking anesthesia drugs,

but don’t blame me

if i have a panic attack

in the dentist chair.

//

“i’m a social drinker!”

you’re an addict.

“don’t talk to me until i’ve had my coffee.”

you’re an addict.

“weed just calms me down, man.”

you’re an addict.

“the doctor said to take them for thirty days,

but i’m not feeling any pain.”

you’re an addict.

//

my mind is a whirlwind

of you’re not good enough

and everyone hates you

and go run a lap, fatty

and hehe, wouldn’t it be funny

if you threw yourself out of that window?

and fucking do it, pussy.

it sucks, but it’s normal.

and normal

is better

than different.

//

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