Poem #376 the Book

Why in the fuck does it matter?
That I smoke a handful of weed
I’m not drunk tattooed head
Ain’t no needles OD’d dead
Eat too much chocolate and
play guitar till my fingers they bleed

Go on and make us all criminals
and pretend this don’t end what we see
If the escape is for real
what you can’t see you can’t heal
till you discover that I’m you and you’re me

I used to wake up to a beer
or whatever got into my hands
from a bar to a bed to a jail almost dead
I arose from the carnage set free

Everyone has their own battles
one plays out in the world and one in your head
what you choose what you pick in the end comes so quick
the books’ not its’ cover-You’ll see