When you wake up from your high to find your family

perched, staring down at you, instead of distantly oblivious,

do not ask why or how. Acknowledge their presence

& sink back into your blacklight-stupor. Allow yourself,

 

perched, staring down, distantly oblivious,

a silent sleep knowing the echo is over. Do not worry

& sink back into your blacklight-stupor. Allow yourself

the surrounding infestation & concern,

 

a silent sleep knowing the echo is over. Do not worry

yourself with whether or not you hid the dirty spoons

in the surrounding infestation or concern.

We’re well beyond that now. Quietly surrender

 

yourself, whether or not you hid the dirty spoons.

Pocket the little red baggie of assorted pills tucked

well beyond that, & quietly surrender

to such an intervention. You’ve been through this before.

 

Pocket the little red baggie of assorted pills tucked

for dignity & know by tomorrow you’ll be begging for dope or death,

such an intervention—you’ve been through this before.

Don’t let your parents hear that. Gift yourself the lowest ditch

 

of dignity & know by tomorrow you’ll be begging for dope or death.

Convince yourself you’re self-medicating for them.

Don’t let your parents hear that. Gift yourself the lowest ditch:

the pills as shelter. Be the scarred saint, hide the reflection of failure,

 

convince yourself you’re self-medicating for them.

You’re well beyond that. When your little sister sees

the pills as shelter, be the scarred saint, hide the reflection of failure:

your blood-blackened & bruised arms. Don’t recoil.

 

You’re well beyond that. When your little sister sees

your shock, let her hold you like it’s your turn,

your blood-blackened & bruised arms, don’t recoil,

be fetal. Don’t fight this; you haven’t the strength

 

for her shock. Let her hold you like it’s your turn,

& carry enough for now. Quit fighting your faults,

be fetal. Don’t fight this; you haven’t the strength

for the rest of your life. Tune in to the tenderness.

 

You carry enough for now. Quit fighting your faults.

You’ll try to get through every tick & trigger

for the rest of your life, so tune in to the tenderness.

You’re not beyond returning to the rubble that is

 

getting through every tick & trigger,

what you’ve become. Remember every time

you weren’t beyond returning to the rubble that is

you trying to rebuild alone: remember every failure,

 

what you’ve become. Remember every time

as necessary weight. Carry it so you don’t forget

you tried to rebuild alone: remember every failure,

how easy it is to lose everything in the slip of an instinct. Take

 

necessary weight. Carry it so you don’t forget

pictures of your welted arms & wilted life so you don’t forget

how easy it is to lose everything in the slip of an instinct. Take

how bad you got & gift yourself a reminder of the wreckage:

 

pictures of your welted arms & wilted life so you don’t forget,

never forget you’ve still got plenty of room

for the bad you got. Gift yourself a reminder of the wreckage:

all you fucked up. So give yourself permission

 

& never forget you’ve still got plenty of room

to fuck it up. Take the pressure off getting life right.

It’s all fucked up. Give yourself permission

because you already know you’re bound

 

to fuck it up. Takes the pressure off getting life right.

Do not ask why or how, just acknowledge the present:

you already know you’re bound

to your high, so wake up & find your family.