Pharmaceutical Playground

You can call it my high horse, but know it's contained upon the carousel of chaos where each of us shares in our concern for the highs and lows of the addict ahead and behind us, too blinded to be reminded that each of us is seated in the center of a chase with no concrete way of knowing who's off next or how. 

Mine's a medicated merry-go-round, spun round and round by the medicine man. However, unlike my first rides leaving me dizzy, having gone round once too many, I've grown increasingly too afraid to jump off.

To take that leap of faith and find myself spinning on solid ground.

I'd rather stay 'merry' and medicated than find myself coming to terms with staggering through a world standing standing still.

Surreal as it sometimes seems, the earth does turn, stuck in an eternal spin and yet you remain standing still - what if it's just self will, control, or strength that I lack? Or worse, what if it's those early roots I lack that now ground you?

What if getting off is to succumb to the end spun out of control.