You hate yourself.
You take another pill.
You hate yourself.
You take another pill.
Are we at four or five now?
You take another pill.
You're not sure if it's real this time. You're not sure if you finally found the nerve this time.
You take another pill.
Your drempt of bullets this morning. Flying through her head. Blood everywhere.
You take another pill.
Does it matter after a certain point? Or was even seven enough? How long will they take?
You take another pill.
You can't remember when the dreams began. When the people started fading into smoke. When you slowly felt you were starting to drift off. When you lost track of the world. When you started to hate yourself.
You take another pill.
You think it's real this time. You don't remember it ever hurting this much.
You take another pill.
No one knows you are here. No one will find you for a while.
You take another pill.
One gone. One sad. One lost.
You take another pill.
You're sad. You're lost. And now you're going away.
You take another pill.
You left no note.
You take another pill.
That was pretty deep. A while back I tried to do a slam poem about heroin but I could never get it right. However after reading this, I think I will try again due to this writing piece.