untitled 300 and who cares
i can’t remember when the world was sober.
i guess maybe i was born too late.
too early for rehabilitation.
in an era in between inebriation and withdrawals.
a system where the hangover is constant and vicious.
it bites at my heels.
it jabs at my temples.
it hardens my heart.
because we consume to ease the pain.
work and drink.
work and smoke.
work and work and work and work.
and maybe there’s a better way to cope.
but it seems intangible.
a grasp away from a reality.
that is too good to be true.
i forget the last time the world was sober.
maybe hidden in between paragraphs.
that eclipse decades.
or a time that never came to pass.
a place where doctors don’t only take phone calls that come from high rises
and the streets are not bleeding from pharmacy overdoses
no i don’t remember the last time the world was sober.
we didn’t choose this,
we simply exist within a world that requires us to put bandaids on our broken bones in any way we can afford to.
so choose your vice.
let it burn your tongue or your liver or your wrist or your everlasting soul.
watch beneath eyelids from pupils rolled back in ecstasy,
how the world shakes beneath you.
maybe it finally feels bearable for a time.
and don’t ask me to make sense of it.
cause fuck if i know the last time the world was sober