Meth Mathematics

For my birthday I’d like a few new veins,
and a brand new life, okay?
Wrap up happiness, love, and a little bit of sanity
with Star Wars wrapping paper from
the mid to late 70’s, please?

And be sure to use bubble wrap
‘cause those can’t arrive to me cracked,
I can’t survive disappointment like that.
Please help me find a way out of this life
I’ve been trapped, and stop me
if I even think of going back.

The date today is October 17th
and I am now twenty-two years old,
still daydreaming of getting sober
before turning twenty-three.

I’m alone, forcibly sober and
making lists in my head
of all the different ways I could
make my life, end.

I spend every hour of my day counting:
I’m counting seconds, to minutes, hour by hour,
adding dollars, subtracting ounces and grams,
then dividing 1.5 by 2, and injecting
the remainder into my arm.

I have never been any good at math
but I’ve becoming an expert at calculating
the amount of poison needed to keep
myself from screaming –

and the equation is simple:
just count all of your regrets, add that total
to all of the mistakes that you’ve made,
then multiply the sum by how many people
you’ve let down and disappointed,
take that product, add it to the number
of friends you still miss, multiply the sum
by how many of your lovers have said,
    “I’m sorry but, I just can’t do this..”

So, what was the solution to your
simple equation?
That variable, that number –
that’s the amount of reasons you have
for wanting to quit all of this, to check out
and give in – to end it.

But sometimes,
you can take that number
and subtract it by grams,
you can reduce the amount of pain
that you’re in –  numb
is possible with poisonous subtraction.

Right now my bag is empty and so is my wallet,
I have no variable left to subtract from,
there’s only more addiction and multiplication.

What happens when I’ve reached infinity
but there’s no poison to reduce the severity?
Is it sick to find it slightly poetic to die
on the day you took your very first breath?

I’m growing tired of math and equations,
I’m better with words and false explanations.
Am I simply venting,
or is this my official letter or resignation?

Well you do the math –
I’ve subtracted my life into the negative
and I’m sick of being in
   debt.