Mary Jane

(Photo by Smoke & Vibe on Unsplash)

It's up in smokes again.
My existence.
I struggle to seek meaning.
But there's just too much distance.
Between me and acceptance.
That my life is being lived, not spent dreaming.

There's congruity in the reefers burnt,
Peace in the benumbing.
As I convince myself, that this is my last blunt,
The demons rise, and get me plunging.

The final shot, the final puff,
Is never the end.
Time's ticking, mine is fleeting.
What's sposed to give me hope, causes my conscience to bend.

My breath corrupted, my mind bastardized.
The only color my life adorns,
Is the red sunk deep in my eyes.

My reflection yells at me to cease.
But who else will house my madness, who else will house this disease?
All that was needed, was a little bit of love.
But alas, it's fatal delirium that gives me ease.
My hands grow shaky, but my grasp stays tight.
And once again,
Novacaine,
It's me and you tonight.