Sobriety

After all these

years

of staying clean

and only smoking

grass,

waking up and

struggling

through reality

sober

is something

that still eats away

at my insides,

gnawing

at my brain.

I feel like I'm under the

influence

of some much worse,

much more

harsh

drug.

It feels concrete

and hopeless

and like everyone

else.

I can't stand it.

I am content with

a little grass

but if I don't have that

I will take anything to

fill that

void

inside me.

Being sober

is hell.

The most boring

and tiring

way to experience

reality.

It is truly

awful.

But

I'm under

the influence

at the moment.

Slightly.

Enough to ease that

monster inside

me.

All is well

until the time

comes

when I have nothing

to escape with.

No nourishment

for my hunger.

When I will retreat

into my dark room

to have my soul

slowly

sucked from my

body

in the most uncomfortable

way possible

and reality will burn into my eyes

and mind

and spirit

and it will be too much to fucking

bear.

Death seems like

a great feast

to a man

dying of

starvation,

like air to the

burning lungs

of the diver.

But I feel

in my bones

if I were to kill myself

I would come back into this

hell over and over.

So, I ponder of my

current age,

28,

and think,

"You're reaching the

halfway point, man!"

"Don't give up!"

"Don't be a bitch!"

"Stick it out

till the end."

And go

naturally

into that

next place

that I hope

is much more

tolerable

than this

one.