Living on the brink of destruction.
Panicked by the pull of propriety.
Peer propaganda, drawn to the cusp of insanity.
Staring down at the powdered mass of wasted dignity;
drowning sorrows of teenage delights,
in a compact, easy to use, instant pick-me-up.
A remedy for the lost souls I call my ‘friends’.
Whom spread the disease of pure pale madness;
that seems to smell so god damn good,
it seeps into your brain.
"Try it", “Do it!".
You can’t say ‘no’ to the demands of acceptance.
A one time offer to a fully fledged allegiance,
a one way ticket to ‘cool’.
It’s the apex predator, the peak of adventure.
A dark road taken by many; a unity of travelers.
All arrive desolate and alone,
to a destination of uncertainty;
past, present and future.
And the constant wave of sound;
a voice, “I should have said no”.
I stand with my brothers, my sisters, my pact.
My morals abandoned;
my senses on hold.
A rolled up twenty dollar bill seems a costly way to suspend into the reality of disillusionment.
I feel a sting,an itch.
My nostrils flare;
Blurred walls, blurred lines;
distorted versions of a grim kind of ‘happy’,
imprinted on cast away faces.
Once in, the door is shut;
once there, you must succumb.
Are you happy now? I’ve joined you.
An army of ‘yes’, a coalition of wrong,
an anthem of “It won’t happen to us”.
Dangerous streets, walked blindly by our youth.
Splendidly oblivious, blissfully unaware;
traits of an evolution, all too common.
The urge to be problematic;
the need to be sad,
fueled by the emptiness of a hollow bottle of pills.
And I joined them.
Their laughter, hysterical;
their eyes, enlarged;
bigger than their ego’s.
The ‘Popular Group’.
All too suddenly, all too quick;
I grasped the meaning of “drugs are bad”.
A kindergarten classroom, a memory of myself;
"I’ll never do drugs", “Nor I", “Not me".
We all said it, we lied.
Innocence shattered, promises broken.
A fools desire to try something new,
a passion for personal preference.
The drugs kick in.
And I fall;
deep into the abyss of regret, esteem and magic.
Emergency room dancing;
fluorescent light beaming like the smiles on their silly faces.
A parade of concern and a padded ground on wheels.
Crimson diamonds in my eyes and the pounding of a distant drum;
a lone musician within my chest.
A shaking in bones, and then, a final rest.
All too soon I had the urge, all too fast, it failed me.
I lost my fight, I let them win.
I am the unlucky one;
who took the bait, hook, line and sinker.
I stood in triumph, with my new gang of friends,
I had the choice; I had a taste.
It felt as though I finally knew what it must be like to be that person,
who traipses through paths of righteousness and cavalier;
unharmed and appreciated.
I trailed along the line of misuse and drug abuse;
a modern rite of passage that would cease my life;
and crown me ‘cool’.
- Lara A. Milton