The Wrong Road

What I want
What I need
Two different cravings 
Both demand I feed.


The fragrance is sweet.
Something about it
The way the smoke
Dances with my brain.
That smell hits my nose,
and everything fades
into the cloud 
It feels so inviting,
it feels so safe.
It entrances me.
I romanticize the taste.
I want to give in,
but will it change 
who I am within?


I sit glued to my bed,
walking a maze inside my head,
searching for something I can’t find.


I can’t see.
I can’t lose this new me.
But did the old me die?
Or did he go and hide,
fake his own death 
so I’d feel safe,
and lose sight and faith?
Maybe it’s a lie.
I don’t want to waste
away over smoke in my lungs.


I’ve come to a fork,
two paths to choose from.
I stay stuck,
trying to choose a way.
Second guessing
which road to take.
If I choose wrong,
will I get lost in this?
I’m already missing.
So does it even matter? 


My soul screams “yes!”
My heart whispers “no…”
My mind runs every road,
I still don’t know where to go.
People say follow your heart,
but what if it fails me?
My heart whispers louder.
I run down one path
without looking back.


The smell returns.
The taste fills my mouth.
The smoke fills my lungs.
For a moment I feel at home.
It’s warm and welcoming,
Like I’m not alone.


I start to get goosebumps
as I start to see a light.
It’s a candle next to a grave.
I shiver as it comes into sight.
I slow down, pause for a break.
I look down and read the name.
My eyes pop;
It says James!


I don’t wanna die. what do I do?
The dirt looks fresh,
dark and loose.
I push away the dirt 
with my bare hands.
I get a foot or two
and my hands cramp.


The dirt feels more packed,
but I can’t stop or go back.
I dig till my nails break and bleed.
          I dig till I’m in a hole.
                six feet or so.
                   I scratch,
                     I claw.
My hands are bloody and raw.
I feel like giving up.
But I hit something — it’s not dirt, 
As I scratch 
I hear the wood scuff


I feel relieved.
I did it, I found me!
He is here.
He did die.
Surely he’s inside this coffin I see.
But something tells me—
Look inside…




I struggle to dig around,
I claw it free,
And strain to pull it out.
Trembling, I open the coffin…
It’s empty.


It’s empty! 


I hear footsteps.
I turn around.
The old me is crying.
I stand frozen, unable to breathe.
He says, “You used to love this.
Don’t you miss me?”
He carries a familiar smell,
I do miss it.
I crave it still.


The desperate man continues to speak 
“I wanted help out of this
but you left me lonely,
lost in this maze.”
I stare at him blankly,
not sure what to say.
He reaches for a hug.
I accept the embrace.


His arms feel warm,
I’m still lost in the smell.
He pushes me down.
I fall in the hole I dug myself.
Now he’s laughing,
he starts shoveling the dirt.
What’s happening?


I try to climb out
I claw at the sides
As dirt fills my face
My heart whispers 
“Don’t fight it,
You’ll never suffer again”