Poem: Life as a Legalised Junkie

Another day and my body
is shaking.
My heart feels like a
hummingbird; ultra-light
and beating too fast
I dont't know what's
wrong with my body
I'm scared and I
want to cry.
Popping an extra
Xanax and Methadone pill
I sit beside a tree
in the shade
and write in my little book
to get outside my
vastly uncomfortable
perspective
for a moment.
This feeling can't go on all day,
it's too fucking severe.
I'll die of heart attack, first.
Too shaky to write..
(writing become illegible)

...(20 Mins later)
A little better now.
Maybe the damn heat
makes me sweat out my medicine
too fast. Fuck.
Life as a legalized Junkie:
Where my dope comes from
a smiling pharmacist at Walgreens
and it's never enough
to get me high,
just enough to keep me from
screaming in pain and
shaking with spiders
all over my skin.

No sleep last night,
but greatful, exhausted,
tossing and turning.
Like every night.
Somehow I know that
I will never be O.K. again.
The rest of my life
will be spent with The Doctors, or worse:
spent with Guards or Nurses.

Too sick to have a life,
to have a job,
to have a wife.
Too sick to have friends,
to sick to have joy.
There's not much life left,
for this too-sick young boy.

"Fuck it," I think,
as I take two more pills,
"I have them for a reason,
might as well take them."

Like any proper Junkie
I've been hoarding my pills
against a run at the pharmacy
or other unforseen emergency.
Doling them out to myself
oh-so-carefully.
Ever aware of the monkey on my spine
and the proverbially tight Anus's of Doctors
when it comes to medications like mine.
(With good reason too, I'm sure;
I would not wish my condition on anyone
who had other choices left in life.
Indeed if my parents loved me more
I would have other choices. But that is
for a paralell universe. In this one I'm
on my own and the best Doctors I can afford
are Free!)...

The meds do some good,
the worst of the shaking has stopped.
I can still feel my heart,
like a feather,
trying to climb up my throat
and the worms in my stomach
that can't decide if I am hungry
or naseus, but suddenly life
is slightly more barable.
My breathing gets deeper;
and I decide to go walk.
If life gets too unbarable
I can always come back to this tree
and I can always take some more pills.