A small, gram bag of clarity
I had purchased from a stranger,
gambled on her claim of its purity
a clear and present danger.
A time in my life, I still wouldn’t regret
during which many brain cells were destroyed,
a time of learning and hard taught lessons
I have now rendered, null and void.
Feeling so cloudy I felt the need to use
a substance to unclutter all the shit,
nothing that I’d like to boast about
the amount, I would plainly not admit.
Please, don’t get all righteous on me
and act like you’re any better than I,
for it’s no different than a lonely housewife
chugging a glass, then a bottle of wine!
At least I never got married with children
performing a phony financial and social status,
and I’ll never feel that gut-wrenching guilt
from, drunk-driving my kids to soccer practice.
Same as clean cut, class mom, “Little Suzy”
popping “mothers little helper” on the side,
she can still look all prim and proper, yet
I’m the “junky” because mine was not prescribed?
© 2018 Joseph Emerson @ WhatsInsideAMadmansHat.com