Art

It’s the Pills Talking – Michael Washington

One day you forget your own name picking up more of us from the pharmacy.
Before you know it, you’re hitting rock bottom at a PAW Patrol Live! show,
You start splitting us in halves. Our time here gets cut short, like a line
break. Your liver, which used to be the heart of a burgeoning utopia,
gradually tapers into a ghost town. The doctor warns you again:
“Given your condition, there’s only one way that this can end.”
Instead of listening to reason, you pull on the loose thread
of your bulletproof vest until, little by little, it all unravels,
leaving you defenseless against the demonic spirits
we once kept at bay. And when you find yourself
sprawled across the neighbor’s rose bushes,
having watered them with piss and blood,
you go to great lengths to assure him
that what he thought was a seizure
was really an interpretive dance
symbolizing the never-ending
struggle between the highs
and the lows. It’s funny
how nobody has ever
written anything
worth reading
about doing
drugs