How Strong the Sting

How not to free yourself

How strong is the sting from the venom I call my friend
the enemy of my future, the laughter that will not end
the walking away I had almost achieved
the new freedom I had almost believed
I would not accept it thought, I forced myself back inside
where I would have not been missed, one tear not cried

My world of darkness of everlasting night, one into another
easy enough I was being ignored, by the last I call brother
was a step away, a step I did not have to behind follow
it was not cruelty, just laziness, easy enough to swallow
brother in this world means nothing without a shiny dollar
all day I sent messages, screamed my voice into a holler
I needed what I needed there was just no way I could go
without the poison, without the shit, just so that you know

I mean my dick is less important to me that the smoke
to fill my lungs, to color my world, to say I have spoke
19 more minutes I wait
after I will be able to create
something that makes this boring set of letters cast away
into the nothing, into your life, into the least important say
I have never said, and yet I dread not posting this my words
bland, no color, so many wasted bits, so fucking absurd

So fucking forced
so fucking farced
So nothing served
so nothing earned

SO who am I, this rotten sweaty shell of myself tonight
I have been clean for two days
I have had so little abitlity to say
anything with any clarity substitute how much I sit and hurt
the aches and pains my punishment upon my body so inert
the mental cries and internal lights turned up too harsh
too bright
filled fright
I could have made it God damn-it, I could have made it one more fucking night, I had it in my hands, my freedom from my self created plight of my addiction to the nothing that I have to seem to take to make myself feel like myself and not this old man with no right to blind your eyes with his blind faith in NOTHING God damn NOTHING because he can’t one time believe in himself… fold him up, lable him stupid, put him on the shelf. Put him on the shelf for another run.
There is no way to tell when this one will be done. Could be sooner than later… the fucking shame of it all… it was in his hands, it was in my heart, but I came apart in the end again.