a commentary on my reality
coming from the cloud nine
with my thoughts in the basement,
all my feelings are miseducated,
sublimated heart, the days are improportionate
and there's no escape
when the cries for help are braggadocious,
arrogant and unsedated.
wish there was some time left
for me to save myself.
drug addiction is the chip on my shoulder,
bartered my soul for materialistic desires;
fear of a seizure, or a cardiac arrest
while walking the stairs of my apartment;
or, probably ending up as a convict,
in a courtroom, getting a lifelong prison statement.
allies switch to foes,
darkness has turned to an enemy.
trying to be a better version of myself,
trying not to play eeny-meeny-miny-moe
with the medical shelf;
state-of-the-art pistol to my head,
muzzle to my face, it hurts to spell "A-M-E-N",
because if there's a God,
he's only helped me suffer,
every tragedy to him is an oops- accident;
there's no leap of faith, taking shots
of nitroglycerin to my chest,
hoping this piece qualifies as a cry for help.