Self Conscious Drug Use

The drugs just get me by.
And they're so mundane.
Comforting me softly in.
I'm ok with right now.

It's never strong enough.
To knock me out.
To fill this boredom with alright.
Everything for a moment of levity.

I want my mind to break
I don't wanna think.
I want to be subsumed in some feeling I don't.
Have.

For just a moment.
One second.
Of comfort.

Every drug is a footnote of what I've done.
Catalogued among all these bad trips.

I would have an excuse.
But, it's all so innocuous now.
Relatively normal.
To be around hard drugs.

Dingy basements smelling of mould.
And four pounds of morphine.
Mean men with mean tattoos testing me.
As though I'm not a degenerate.

A counter indication or  two.
The benzos make me mad.
I sleep on speed.
As I always get uncomfortably high.

Always making bad decisions.
Always taking too much.
Always groveling in my filth.

And, I make it a badge of  honour.
That I persist.
To get high again.

Tomorrow.