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drunken stupor, apologies pouring out of my mouth like blood from a gash
wish i were high but i can’t find a dealer in a group of people handpicked from sunday masses
my parents don’t drink so i know at some point they’re going to notice the missing seltzer cans
here’s the thing: i’m not a good person
i yell and scream in my driveway trying to catch my breath and failing over and over again (typical)
i try and beat up the safe to get to my fix of pink pills that are only there because someone had to intervene
i miss the buzz of them and the way they made my whole world quiet
it turned my thoughts into radio static and i can’t put to words how much i crave it sometimes
hated the withdrawal but fuck if i just keep on taking it i won’t ever have to deal with it again
i lie to my therapist and tell her i haven’t drank in the past week
i don’t drink a lot, only did a few times
i’m planning on having a friend over for the night so we can get wasted
she apologized in advance if she tries to kiss me or anything,
i didn’t say it but mentally i composed my apology:
i’m sorry if i put the weight of my sins on your saved shoulders,
but somethings i can’t bear to shoulder so my knees give out and it all comes tumbling to the ground
i used to stare at smokers in dirty parking lots, not out of judgment, just out of ashamed jealousy
they take a drag and i watch the smoke curl up
i linger around those strangers and if they notice anything at all, they don’t pay me any mind
it’s why i love not knowing people, they don’t care to be disappointed when you fuck yourself over
‘cause you aren’t theirs and they aren’t yours
we’re just passing moments in each other’s lives, just each others extra to the movies of us
at the end of the day, i think, reminiscing on the pink pills i popped in my mouth in a church bathroom,
the thing i love about knowing people is that when you say, “fuck off,” to their loving faces,
their eyes shutter off and you know that you’ve finally hurt them.
