At some point alcohol became the weighted blanket for my mind something solid to make me feel secure a heavy shroud to hold me down in the present moment Over ten years of diligent practice I've become a master of self-medication caffeine, cannabis, kratom, and liquid courage a witch's brew of corrosive ingredients to subdue my writhing soul Quick fixes never work for long so many mornings left picking up the pieces of poorly planned promises to myself smoothing over the soft doubt deep down that this really will be the last time Sometimes it is strange to see others experience true joy without chemical assistance I wonder if my synapses are too damaged to do that now Imagining a life without my caterpillar quantity of crutches seems just as alluring as it does absurd Still nothing could be worse than this ritual self-denial this refusal to allow myself to exist as I am accepting that I am unable to overcome my small fears by burying them stealthily beneath bottles of booze next time I'll try harder to be brave
Protect the Innocent 