I need to learn
that I can have fun without drinking

but the drinks were never there for enjoyment
they were there for forgetting
so that enjoyment could arrive
without memory sitting beside it

substance abuse
but I am highly aware

my tongue craves to forget

I know what vodka tastes like
but I pretend that I dont
squeezing my face at the burn
like the glass surprised me

still it tastes like liberty

a shot of freedom
a swig of release

because everything that has ever happened to me
sits fresh on my shoulders
and loud in the front of my mind

I replay things that were said
relive images I dont want to see
review the things I had to leave behind
just to stand where I stand now

and my hand shakes
around the stem of the glass

a martini I made myself
clear and cold and deliberate

a small man made potion
to make my minds memory morph
into mindless enjoyment

slowly it works

inhibition loosens
social awareness still high
but the care softens

the emotional weight lifts
just enough
for the glimmer in my eyes
to return

I need permission to loosen up
I need permission to be free

these truths follow me everywhere

I am both half empty
and half full

it just depends
on the intoxication

before two drinks
my glass is half empty

after a blunt
the glass is half full

the drugs change
the shape of my vision

whether or not I forget
decides whether or not
I enjoy myself

a highly aware almost alcoholic
who does not need a drink
but definitely prefers one

permission to be two things at once

the watcher
and the doer

the one pouring the drink
and the friend saying
you have had enough

even in intimacy
my mind keeps racing

I gave you permission to explore
every inch of me

but never gave myself
permission to enjoy

substance abuse

but how can I learn
to enjoy myself without a drink

when my thoughts
wrap around my brain
like a tightrope

and the liquor
is the knife
that cuts it
in half

but the substance that never leaves
is my own mind

my endorphins
my lack of dopamine
my hyper awareness
my desire to understand everything
and my inability to separate it

so I reach for my glass again

vodka bitter
rum sweet

wine waiting quietly in the bottle
bubbles climbing the glass
like tiny celebrations

and if it is not liquor
it is the blunt

green and purple grains
mixed with grabba

you know I am a lady
but I need it to punch me

blunt force to the chest

smoke filling the ribs
until the noise in my head
finally thins

for a moment
my brain goes quiet

in colors of delusion
the sky was neon
lies melting into color
ghosts flickering like film burn

that intoxication
looked beautiful

but this

is grey smoke
and heavy clouds
lifting slowly from my lungs

and I realize something

either way
I am still being deceived

by my drugs of choice