It was just two hits,

Before the combination turned my brain to stone,

Cognition gone.

I became my own version of a battlefield.

Heart rate peaked to over 150 bpm.

My vision spins and glitches and chunks.

I fall on the ground.

Physically unconscious but mentally psychotic.

The visions get to me

I see stars and space.

I see myself as a gray mass of falling matter.

Falling

Down.

Convinced my existence is nothing but a neuron.

I believe that all things nonliving have consciousness too.

But their existence is boring and their purpose is to solely exist.

All thoughts, feelings, emotions,

But no ability to move or to be.

And I am one of them.

On the surface my friends observe my body.

Eyes open, no blinking, no movement.

A pulse exists but it's too quick to be healthy.

We were camping so the drive to the hospital lasted two hours.

My body lay near lifeless in the back of the car.

But my mind exists in the stars.

As peaceful as it sounds,

It was terrifying.

Eventually I find myself on a hospital bed.

Wires expand from my veins and lungs.

Consciousness slips but at least I know my name.

The doctor outside the door loudly expresses that he has no idea what to do with me.

That's the thing with drugs and stigma,

They believe you're a low life

Disappointment,

House full of stairs 

Be careful because if you slip,

You'll have a permanent trip,

Down to the basement where it's cold,

Don't worry, you can't die alone,

With a heart full of substance,

And lungs full of abuse.

But there's a way out,

Even if the door is locked,

Try a window,

Take a chainsaw to the steel walls,

There's always a way out.

Drinks full of Detox,

Rehab feels like the walls are closing in.

Recovery is the last place you want to be.

There’s comfort in the pain,

The familiar.

But do I really want my life to be a permanent trip?

A circle of relapse and recovery.

It starts with harm reduction,

And what you want your life to be.

To build a new house full of potential and clear minds.

A house with no basement.

Stairs that only walk up.

The basement will always be a part of you,

And sometimes you’ll trip.

Sobriety doesn’t have to be the goal.

But I don’t want intoxication to be my death sentence.

Keep climbing the stair,

Find a way out,

There’s always a way out.