Torrential worries fill my heat and mind.
This anxiety is like spiral staircase,
Which is questionably an overreaction,
All the same is a constant source of sorrow.
Pleading with for a platform to rest on
Or to escape the dizzying lack of
I’m left in the dark wondering if you may be
feeling the same nausea I do
That stems from being the only thing tethered to my reality.
That’s the thing about red-eyed and bleary-eyes…
They are both sad.
I do miss vacations from real with you,
even if I am mumbling half formed syllables
about the once upon a time that never was.
But, that’s the thing about substance induced oblivion.
One day, the pain of loss
Becomes so amplified,
It becomes all that there is.
Fear not, I guess.
The scrabbling, or grappling, for acceptance
works itself out eventually.
Please don’t make the mistakes,
which I have made, in the coming months…
Thrills and pills, trills and benders,
green clouds and yellow stains…
These are the choices you ace, Ace.
The former are predominantly what I recommend.
Don’t be afraid of you slip up a little.
Please be good to yourself, Old Friend.
Love you regardless I most certainly will,
‘Tis jus damnable offense to not speak
ones mind to a greathero who is susceptible to tarnishing.
Stay gold, Old Pal.