No Changes

By Devin Mullin

I could stay sober, but here’s the catch,
the world’s fucked up and I’m just trying to match.
I don’t need therapy my solution is quicker.
My shrink’s name is weed, tabs, and good liquor.

Someone mouths the word stop, I can’t hear over the guzzling,
but I find his appearance to be quite puzzling.
He looks like me at the age of ten,
I must be losing my mind I need the liquor again,
but after a chug the kid’s still there.
He has a look on his face I simply can’t bear.
I knows he’s disgusted by many things,
like a man dependent on what a drug dealer brings.
He starts to say something, but shakes his head,
he knows he must leave or soon be dead.
I’ve made myself what I am and won’t change my creation,
especially not due to my damned imagination.
I want him gone so I throw punches without care,
but now I look around and see he’s not there.

I could stay sober, but here’s the catch,
the world’s fucked up and I’m just trying to match.
I don’t need therapy my solution is quicker.
My shrink’s name is weed, tabs, and good liquor.

The liquor ain’t hitting, I need something stronger.
I hope a blunt can keep that kid away longer.
I roll it, light it, breathe in and breathe out,
now I’m wondering what I’m worried about,
but lo and behold the kid comes right back,
with that same look that had made me attack.
This time he spoke, he began to pray,
that damn demon child had this to say,
“Please god tell me that this isn’t true,
that my life’s only goal is to smoke blunts with the crew.
I’m freaking ten, yet I have more ambition,
then the man I see in this odd premonition.”
I’m too high to understand if what he’s saying is right,
but I know for sure that I still want to fight.
I look him dead in the eye and take another hit,
he disappeared realizing that I’d never quit.

I could stay sober, but here’s the catch,
the world’s fucked up and I’m just trying to match.
I don’t need therapy my solution is quicker.
My shrinks name is weed, tabs and good liquor.

The weed didn’t work so I drop a tab,
finding solace in the chemicals straight out of a lab.
At least now I’m hallucinating on my own terms,
but I still see the kid and his look still burns.
He’s screaming “how could you do this to us,
after everything thing they said, after they made that fuss?
People used to think you could really be someone,
but now an addict is all you’ll become.
You had a vision for your life, you used to have dreams,
but now the next high is all your life means.
I hate your guts and now I see,
that I may be you, but you’re nothing like me.”
I wholeheartedly agree, and I hate him too,
so I grab hold of a knife and I run him through.
I watch him die and I feel changed,
not like a murderer, and not at all deranged.
The old me is dead I’ll do whatever I want.
I’ve freed myself from all of his taunts.
There’s no more guilt for buying what the dealer is dealing,
and when I need more money there is no guilt for stealing.
I won’t be changed there is no way,
I’ll stay like this until my very last day.

I could stay sober, but here’s the catch,
the world’s ducked up and I’m trying to match.
I don’t need therapy my solution is quicker.
My shrink’s name is weed, tabs and good liquor.