weak.
so many useless prescription drugs, but none that match the situation i've been stuck in. a search for stimulation, spent miles behind green hills and gray cities, void of anything besides color. yes, home alone america, and your parents are out of town. i unscrewed the child safety locks and found your mom's ritalin pills next to her wine. i thought about you the next morning for a good twenty minutes, stuck between being awake and being left for dead, skipping the stage that involves leaving your bed. then i got up and looked at the girl laying alone at my side and thought, "fuck this, i wanna go home." here's to taking caffeine pills when you've been diagnosed with insomnia, and to not knowing too much of a good thing; too little of a problem to overdose on the solution. oh we, the poor, tired, huddled masses, we raise the wine filled glasses, and swallow that rich red to deal with those sick, sad blues, not forgetting to swallow the vicodin for therapy to deal with the substance abuse.