This sober life is my Albatross,

heavy as a cross,

Bending my neck into knots.

Around me, I smell the nauseating scent of

alcohol and  weed…

I am too pure to be here

Trapped in this addiction prison

The walls all tallied with excuses like their arms with track marks and razor scars

 

It’s not always so bad

There are the innocent drunks

Who frequent a Saturday party. But still…

I am unfair here.

The scales never tipping in my favor

If this is not sickness

What the hell is it?

I hear the high flies buzzing on their potential corpses

I rot slower

because I rot sober …

Inside my inescapable  cell

Of everyone else’s escapes

 

@ angel rosen