Never really had this much interest, cloaked spies lying in wait for me to say the wrong words. Take the wrong pill, sip the tainted drink, taste a stranger’s flesh, all under the watchful gaze of the innocent hypocrites. Me, just a dreamer, hoping that an answer drifts into the perceived haze.
My popularity soars, random searches collide with assumptions and everyone wants to jump to the wildest conclusions. If you were only here with me, if you could just spend some time inside my mind. Nothing left to sell to pay the bills, yet I am the one who is getting high? My stress is wrapped ultra tight around my walls, decisions to make, chances to take, everything is falling apart while the clouds part at the same time.
You think you know me, yet our paths can’t cross when I travel the high road and you drain down the gutter. Drama queens keep knocking when I am not even here. They keep saying the damnedest things, when we haven’t met. This is me, doing what I can, day by day, to make a life stained black, white. Yes, I sometimes think the same old thoughts, remember the same old faces, but I’d rather scratch the lines of time into my flesh, than ever answer the door.
All of you line up, buy a ticket, and wade inside. People want to know this or that, how something feels, why there is no stopping…I am two people, there is no escaping that. The one I want to kill, “recovery” tries to keep alive. I am Mike, and I am an….ass hole for even saying “addict” to introduce myself. No one will ever truly understand that I am forced to keep my worst enemy the absolute closest, in my own head. There is something always stirring inside my mind, growing weaker, paler, a gaunt shell of it’s former self. I know the feeling, sometimes a mirror is hard to avoid.
Want to know me? You never will unless we are cut from the same cloth, needle and thread joins us. Perfect strangers from this ilk know me better than some so-called friends. We all know the villain retreats, and withers away, to at least a point, like some freeze-dried memory until a bad day seaps water in that dark corner. Me ? I scream, I laugh, I cry, and sometimes I even fucking smile.
Carrying baggage isn’t working out as a career, broken back worn as thin as my patience. Just another failure at finding my place beneath the feet of society. I want to make things right, I want to be forgiven for allowing my adversary to take over for some time. Always was smart, always got the best marks, and none of it seems to matter because the focus is tied to those scars.
Getting over you means something way different so many months removed. To make it big, the gloves need to come off, and I am going to say it, some are not going to be pleased. Sure footing under me, can hold my head up and smile. Walking with a purposeful aimlessness, not trying to write my future, but working to make it happen anyway. Purpose, that dagger that nicks my faithful nemesis’ artery, slowly bleeding out. Come one, come all, loaded for bear, offer whatever it is will make it all better for you. Bathe in the sunshine of fate. A bit of advice, don’t let the light turn into hate.
“I am Mike and I am a living, lucky to be breathing human being.”
“Trust only movement. Life happens at the level of events, not of words. Trust movement.” ~Alfred Adler