(31) Struggling 12.21.23 @ 10:42pm

I’m tired of struggling.
I rather be drunk all the time, guzzling.
I’m not worried about my health, I’m gambling.
This isn’t a poetry piece, I’m rambling.

I haven’t healed my pain.
It’s more or less, I’m addicted to cocaine.
I can’t recall how I did it back in the day.
Before all this, things were okay.

Why can’t I stop thinking about it?
What is this desire to be lit?
I sniff blood worm lines until it hits.
Just when I think I had enough, I still don’t quit.

I find myself pathetic.
Reunited after many years, I don’t regret it.
This is coming from me, I said it.
All I can do is just deal with it.

Part of me feels this is only a phase.
This may be something I have to face.
Weather I like it or not, it’s not right.
I put myself in the spotlight.

I put myself in this gaping hole.
Everything for that hit of snow.
For a short sense of pleasure.
Under the influence, I feel like a treasure.

It's my love for the fast life.
Love for the fast high.
Love for the white line.
Love for the mixture of white wine.