The Rambling Uppers and Downers

It took seven pills and a wet dream to get me out of bed this morning. The invasive sunrise exposed my mind like a barren oil field burned then extinguished. And although its charred horizon was removed of all life, it offered the promise of higher ground moist with their elusive faith. 

But I am not interested as

The dealer claps and

Shows his empty hands

Because I choose to "hold."

I reluctantly rise to chase my coffee with beer, and the bubbles are the cobblestone steps towards some semblance of balance. I look into the mirror, washing last night out from under my eyes, and my reflection spurs another pep talk like a lover despairing for lies. I try desperately to listen, but my mind races to thoughts of those willing to believe.

Dual consciousness tortures me, and I am exhausted by the voices that ruminate within my wit's folds. Half alert, but mostly drowsy, I am wrecked by awareness. I hunger for a good drunk with desire, but keep pleasure at bay.

And tiptoeing carefully with my narcissism in tow, I write these words for no other reason other than to unveil my incessant attempt to dishonor their illusion. 

My voice remains muffled

Below the crowded surface

Seeking clarity alone in

This blurry existence called "life."