You Weren’t Alone
I got high heaven hopes that holy ghosts,
Will see the splitting frays forming at the end of my rope.
It’s overrated:
“Being Dope.”
Realize it’s just the ego trying to cope.
The drama ensues, internal struggles logged with ink pen.
Experience truths, I might just vomit in the sink then.
Nothing to do. Just flop around and think when...
The misery crew was just you, me, and dope dens.
Devin died.
Surprised by your closing eyes.
Wild nights.
Cocaine drips and stolen 9’s.
I never did trust or say too much.
Now your gone.
Reading what you sent,
I didn’t say enough.
Everything is fleeting, the story repeating.
Since 18: Lost in a tattered soul.
My home of false meaning.
Guess I’ve been meaning to say, can’t imagine another way.
Take it all back?
I’d probably do it the same.
And that’s growth.
The serpent will molt.
Used to revolt from discomforts.
The story she wrote.
Was cold, shivering, covered in hosts.
Leaching off the creatures that just wanted the most.
We found pain.
Love– Struggles just the same.
Chasing down the devil, but monsters took the reins.
Looking for fame, internal glamour, found shame.
Life is a game, cocked hammers, and broken dames.
Waste of time in fact – On track – To lose.
Looking at tracks– Road maps and clues.
Sleeves cover the tracks– Veins are screwed.
Preacher handing out tracts– Lies cover the truth.
The saga continues, thoughts flowing on a keyboard.
Chapter is over, I don’t think I really need more.
Nothing to do, just praying I can breathe for(4):
Another few days. What are you saving seats for?
© S.C. Steele– 2023
