Percocet

The warm blan­ket of obliv­ion leaves me crav­ing, even in its best moment.
I still want a lit­tle more, a lit­tle less, some­thing to make it just per­fect
and unend­ing. As soon as I real­ize this is hap­pen­ing, I am right back where I started:
less happy, less con­fi­dent, dis­sat­is­fied.
I get alone in these moments. I am alone. I aban­don every­one and that’s how
I am alone.
Aloneliness.

This art helps me. You are out there on the other side of the pix­els I am typ­ing on. You are look­ing through this mir­ror, at me. Right? That I feel that, that stops the crav­ing. I do not like the crav­ing. It is the part of numb that drains the water out of the tub. But, this mak­ing of pic­tures of friends mov­ing away to LA, unex­pect­edly not really and depress­ing a lit­tle and have a great time there find your peo­ple your tribe you will you always do even here, and the writ­ing – it helps too. Right?

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5 Responses to Percocet

  1. Stephen Parkhurst says:

    Read­ing this made me feel like the first cool north wind of the fall just blew in after a hot scorch­ing sum­mer. I know what I’m say­ing prob­a­bly doesn’t make sense (espe­cially to those who read peo­ple really well), but while look­ing at the pho­to­graph and read­ing the words, I felt cap­tured, chill bumps…which caused me to pause briefly as I sensed that some­thing was dif­fer­ent. Now I’m crav­ing more.

  2. Barbara says:

    Poignant.
    One’s tribe.….…..very important

  3. Brooke says:

    I like this one and “between us” a lot. I get it.

  4. stephenarcher says:

    thanks!

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