Relapse

I’ll push myself down to the last penny. She still fucked with me when I came out broke... why do I do this to myself? Oh yeah... relapse reminded me. Reminded me of the stress and torment that I’d put my body through, and as I thought I was thinking clearly, the only thing clear on my mind was the drug of choice. I thought I had dreams and goals, aspirations and epiphanies, only to realize that I’ve shattered them like the stuff in my quarter sized bag. I’d push myself to sheer exhaustion, and when shit built up I’d throw everything on remedial issues. Now, I can’t help but to think that I’m as dirty as the people who stole from me, as uninformed as the people who lied to me, and as hurtful as the ones who’d beat me for walking down the wrong street. I know I can’t do anything to take it back, and I can only hope that I’ve learned my lesson, but what I’ll hate myself most for is losing my blessing. As I let the relapse take place, I allow it to shave my skin from my bones. I sit back and allow her to see what it does to me. I looked her in the eyes, and I said, “Let me bleed out like the carcass of the catch. Let me rot like the autumn leaves of the shedding tree. As you search for this corpse of mine, you’ll find it’s the one that I left inside. The day you left is the day I died.“