Coping

My first drag of Crystal Meth smoke
provoked and awoke my inner oaf,
teenage folly led me to exercise what I loathed
about myself: as my mind delved
into being a Meth-head,
precursor to the method,
because it wasn’t enough for me,
to know something conceptually,
it had to be experienced.
I sought a quick way out my pain, I was lost and delirious;
a  slave,
surely this fate could’ve been avoided,
like my father in a grave,
I didn’t spend my last day with him,
I was too busy getting saved.
This was before I lost my way, and incinerated my faith.
On that night,
I overdosed in the living room as I heard my sister sob,
 asking my little brother, If of my life; they would be robbed,
as step dad slapped me hard across the face,
just to keep me awake,
while he tried to remain calm.
Every time i closed my eyes,
He would violently shake,
me like a rag doll,
i couldn’t feel nothing at all,
his voice was so distant and far, I could barely hear him call:
“C’mon wake up buddy,
If you go to sleep you’ll become a lifeless body”.
I couldn’t make eye contact, my eyelids felt so heavy.
I could see my father in the distance,
right hand outstretched, he was calling to me.
I felt the whole universe imploding  with each shallow breath,
my life force moved closer to the eternal moment of death.
I survived,
only to have no discrepancy about how my dependency
caused me to feind drastically, dragging me through street alleys,
causing me to search for pennies, literally:
I walked for miles down Crenshaw Blvd at 3 am,
tasting the Methamphetamine on my phlegm when i coughed,
exposed to the world, while my soul’s in a coffin,
I spoke to myself with head down, eyes scanning,
“i just need some change to buy a hit, I’ll feel better by morning”
This was how i processed my father’s loss, this was me in mourning.
I just wanted to relive heaven by Inhaling the residue from that speed dime,
this was how I spent "me time",
if i could go back,
I’d rewind, re-mind myself that by design, my health would decline,
never mind that i would die.
But that was the point: I didn’t want to live:
A boy’s world without his hero, is the place where the villains win.
So at 16, I gave up on life prematurely,
altered my brain's chemistry to forgo my destiny.
This beast of burden became part of my identity.
I am,
Forever on rehab,
forever an addict,
sobriety is a daily feat,
an ongoing delicate balance.