I didn’t notice that the drugs stopped working

Something snapped.

Wrong place, wrong time.

Reading about yourself, on the internet.

Or other people like you.

Look up meetings in your area.

No meetings in your area.

Swansea, Bristol.

Inconvenient times.

12 steps.

As if it were a flight of stairs.

Get to the landing.

When you live in a fucking bungalow.


Dry rot.

Is this my home now?

Is this my life now?

Since this all happened

I struggle knowing what is real.

My eyes take time to focus

As if I have not had enough sugar.

I can’t focus and begin to worry.

I open the back door

Just to see the outside.

Wake up sweating every evening.

Lay in bed until the sweat dries.

Is this my life now?

I think about suicide a lot

More than before.

Just think about it.

The struggle is real.

And I need a holiday from myself.

I need money.

I need help.

A change of scene.

I’m fed up of my shit bag

Mindless masturbation.

My hips ache from immobility

Lack of exercise


I didn’t notice that the drugs stopped working

They just did

And I’m left alone again

With my mind

My irresponsible, irrational mind.

Layers of fat form

Making everything more uncomfortable

Heat rash in between the folds

I try standing on my head

To let the blood flow to my brain

But I hurt my wrists

And it doesn’t help.

Keep me away from the hard stuff

Because I will partake.

Come get fucked up

In my squalid palace.

Come get fucked up

And we can talk about how shit this all is.

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