i ask, "are you ready to stop? to give it away up to god?"
you say that you haven't hit bottom yet. and i want to shake you until you hear me. until you understand the trials and how you don't need to keep digging.
i spent three years with my nose in a baggie, my mouth on a bottle. hearing and not listening. waiting for the rock bottom they talk of infamously. as if it needed to get worst to get better.
and, maybe it did in my case.
beating my head against a wall hoping it will stop hurting.
do you really wanna see how bad it gets?
do you wanna slum it with the junkies and homeless chicks? sleep on the floor of a heroin addict's kitchen?
see the bugs crawl on the motel walls as your boyfriend's worried about his last paycheck?
wait for him to put his hands on you because you need one more. two more. blue littles pills will be your demise.
but i will go to detox tomorrow, right?
you do not need to mine your way down there just to see if getting better is worth something.
are you ready to stop?
or are your knees weak and head too fuzzy?
are you ready to stop?
or is death the best possibility.
