(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.