(If you catch me on the right day, this is my favorite Jay-Z song.  It’s perfect.  I decided to flip it, because every writer uses the drug metaphor.  Day 192…)

But the allure of the game keeps calling your name.  To all the Lauras in the world, I feel your pain.  To all the Christys in every cities, and Tiffany Lanes, we all hustlers in love with the same thing…

I used to feel
Every time I shoot medicine from the pen
That though the high was incredible
I was killing myself.
The better the product
The more destructive it was to my soul

Rereading further breaks the fourth crack commandment
It may not seem that big
But for an abuser like me
Using interferes with distribution

That’s the problem with having such good drugs
A sample becomes a social hobby
And that hobby becomes addiction
Then you’re in hole in the wall buildings
Trying to get a fix
And other authors just don’t get me high enough.

Reviewing my own words
Tearing into those veins again
Puts me through so much pain
Family isolated
Those who care,
I wouldn’t dare let me see my crumbling self
Breaking down
Mixing into the paper
Until I’m just a collection of lines
Laid out for another like me.

But I love the drug
So many words manufactured
That those that go without being ingested are discarded vials of potential
Wasted
on nouns, verbs, adjectives
Vivid sentences that temporarily lift my spirit
Making me forget the hurt today applied
And tomorrow is waiting to inflict

I used to believe
I am one needle use
One pipe inhalation
Away from dying
That the high
Stopped being a thrill
And became laced with death’s inevitability.
Now why am I still using?