Saturday, 28 July 2012

subutex for breakfast, suboxone for supper and heroin for a snack

Sometimes its so fucking hard to stay true too who you really are, its like looking at a distant galaxy or star. Wishing that you could get back to where it all began, instead of saying yes i maybe I shudve ran? As fast as my short and stubby legs wud carry me and this big fucking cloud of dust is all u would see. Running to get away from all your shit, sounds good but no real sollution is it. Its just so fucking hard to face this shit on a daily basis, like being lost in the dessert and looking for an oasis, lips chapped and dry, so fucking over it your about to cry, you look up and what do you see, fuck me sideways - could it be. Running towards what you see as your saviour, so glad all this shit you did persevere. Do a backflip to land in the water, just to get over this fucking torture. Ending up with a mouth full of sand and you are even more dry, for fuck sakes its so easy to relapse - but why?

'He has Van Gogh's ear for music.'

Billy Wilder

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