Vices, rolling, fear; inhaled.

We all roll it up,
burn it,
and let go of our minds,

the news is the skin that holds it all together,
projecting a certain taste,
while politics get you high off its wild ideas,
catalysed by the tobbacco of the people,
intoxicated on stress,
the fear,

In relationships,
the skin is social expectation that binds the idea of connection,
the tabbacco the internal biological needs,
and the weed is the instant gratification through sex,

but hangover is; realising that you actually can feel,

You curl up to sleep,
forget it all,
and look at the news,
omg not again,

you look at your shoes,
to consider running away,
or stock piling food,
but the truth is,
your high with fear,
then you turn to the booze,
to some light drugs,
and hit up your tinder,

30 mins later theyre here,
took a whole 5 mins of fumbling,
2 mins of contraception debate,
and then the job was done,

that was nice,
im gonna go,
and there you lay spent,
coldly intoxicated by negative thought,
by the chill of your own mind,
by the dawning light of a new day,
slowly being scratched off your life,
the tears are as silent as deafness,

oh dont you regret this,
and wish it all to change,
to be somebody,
to be brave,
I am,
I am that horrible,

as the phones rings,
I believe in you,
get up and do your thing,
put down the fear,
put down your vices and look at you,
in a island of peace,

look where you are and see yourself,

for I was once high,
and at times I still am,
but the anxiety has faded,
and panics come in rarity,

I accept,
fear will always be a part of me,
and everyone else.


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