Drugs:

13 2 3
                                                  

I take melatonin most nights because I usually lay down alone but I end up spooning with Questions
And she snuggles in close and whispers in my ear and I just lay there in comfort and fear
And I stare at a starless ceiling because I'm not a blind eight-year-old anymore
I don't rest in the bliss of ignorance as before
I spoon with Questions and I don't ask for answers
Because questions voiced are questions earned
Like "Why on Earth would you wonder about your rebirth"
"Chase don't you know"
And I do
But that doesn't slow my wonder
I bed with Questions cause she's clothed in familiar discomforts
And every time I think about trying to swim out of her grasp people look at me like "Chase why are you swimming in the first place?"
"Don't you know about your Spiritual birth place?"
So I stay below the surface and breathe within this bubble of comfort I've designed
And maybe these endless nights are filled with wasted time
But I'm afraid that the surface world is full of knives
This can't be life
No it's just mine
I lay awake and rhyme hoping that I can ignore my Questions
Because I hate the path she leads me down
A dark road of regret and guilt and doubt
It's well known by now
And I hate sitting alone at the end because in the morning my bed is empty again
No one waits to help me gather up my tattered faith
I've got clothes tossed around to cover all the doubts
"Chase how many times will you say doubt?"
As many as it takes for you to figure this out
I don't have life figured out
Age doesn't equal wisdom I just learned to dodge death better
I try to follow the red letters
But nobody warns a young man that you can change the color of the text with two natural hands
I need to see the scars to understand
I have trouble with reading when I don't want to read and it leads me to bleeding and then I'm ready to leave
But you can't just walk out of the box you locked yourself in
You have to look up and admit
You have to repent and then forget and go on living within and not in sin
There's no incentive if it all feels good
If you just feel numb

RhymesWhere stories live. Discover now