This is Your Brain on Drugs...

I'm starting to feel strange again
strange like last night
and early this morning.
Tired of being awake;
can't come down yet, though.
(Do I want to?)
But I feel the familiar
slide, slow and lingering,
back to normality,
an exhausted body and a racing mind.
I feel like a wind-up toy,
one that's been wound up
again and again and again,
gears speeding steadily for a time
until they quietly, sneakily,
lose momentum
and I must be wound up again.
Speeding's definitely better
when you have something to do;
decending's easier with weed.



I'm dragging.
The small helpless cries
of my fatigued body,
pleading for rest and silence,
go unheard,
lost in the chaos of my brain.
Part of it tells me to hang on,
just a bit longer,
still so much to be done.
Another part, the part that permits
a few silent tears without understanding why,
begs me in tones softer than a kitten's mew
to stop, to let go.
Still another part is struggling like
an awkward adolescent to justify
actions and feelings.
Which one will win
is a thought that goes, as quickly as it comes,
back into the traffic
on the freeway of my mind.



Three whole customers in four and a half hours.
One guy took forever
in deciding he wanted nothing.
The other two are still browsing.
I've reached that shameful
yet oh-so-loved high once again.
Gripped in restlessness
that is driven wild
by a lack of motivation
It bucks within my mind like an
untamed stallion trapped by walls on all sides.
It yearns for release
from a body that is still apart from mind.
My physical is here
My self is miles away
and seems to have developed a
mind of its own,
refusing to acknowledge body
until body gives into self's
frantic demands of action unknown.
Chores and homework need doing,
cigarettes need smoking,
plans need making.
But all I can do is sit
and try to grasp thoughts
that refuse to be held onto for long.



My boyfriend's already crashed.
Hardly surprising,
considering his tolerance
far outweighs mine,
and five pills are twice as heavy
to me as they are to him,
not to mention the fact
that this is his first sleep in
two days
(Has it really been that long?)
We take to the work differently,
he and I.
He's got ten years experience
and no qualms about these
mind fucks that have me
wrestling with a cognitive dissonance
anytime it's around
and free for the fucking.
The solution to this is pretty simple
in and of itself:
change the behavior, or change the belief.
Knowing that a solution exists
still isn't comforting.
The morality included in its decision making,
the necessity of "knowing thy self,"
makes resolving this dilemma
all the more confusing and frightening.
Fear often leads to impulsiveness.
Impulsiveness usually gets me high
and permits me to avoid
dwelling too much on thoughts of
discomfort and ethics.



The girls will be here in about an hour
(wonder how taking your clothes off
for money balances on the morality scale)
I usually look forward
to their company, especially on slow days.
But for some reason
I'd rather be alone today.
Oddly, it's been a quiet day.
No radio, hardly any t.v.,
the bare minimum of necessary conversation.
Today, I've been listening only
to the rattling thermostat, squeaky old pipes,
and my own incoherent thoughts.
Now, however, one seemingly serious
idea has flitted into my head,
like a bird that seemingly lands on a tree branch
from out of nowhere:
Surely I'm not coming down already...?
Rolling the concept around
in the free spaces of my chemically fucked brain,
though, has me realizing
how quickly my tolerance for this kind of work
has risen, not to mention my lack of physical activity all day.
When combined with two days absence
of food and sleep,
I suppose it makes perfect sense
that I've begun the landing procedure.



The girls arrived,
chatty and full of drama
(not that I'd expect anything less from strippers).
A total of five sales later.
my co-worker's early arrival
finds me high as a kite.
I need to get home
to de-stress and bralessness.