Sigmund Freud was an early proponent for the medical use of cocaine

The father of psychoanalysis swore by it to cure mental and psychical ailments

The repetition of history lurks in the shadows of the present

The desire to fill the moth holes found in our souls is staining

every campus walkway

every high school hallway

every dark alleyway

The desire to flock to and destroy anything bright in the world is found on humid back porches

And in the mind of the privileged majorities.

To what lengths will we go to mute our sadness?

I know a boy that has etched his regret into his brainstem

He forces down shots of vodka hoping the burning in his throat will cauterize the wounds left on the inside.

I know a girl whose stomach still hasn't forgiven her mind

She told me she invites the bruises on her knuckles

After a night spent next to shower drain

After a day filled with too many calories.

The first night my best friend dropped acid was not the first night she begged me to let her kill herself

The night the stars were in her veins

She kissed the devil with her tongue

The night she fell to the ground when she saw the big dipper

And she told me the treeline was coming toward her in waves

But the Stars started burning a little too bright

The tide started coming in way too fast

Then her hand, white hot and heavy danced across my face as if it wasn’t the first time

And before I could be mad,

I saw the look of pure terror in her eyes

When did we stop knowing who we are?

When did we start trying to numb what we were meant to be?

Is this what makes us strong?

Lying in the river of our scars

And undialed suicide hotlines

Compacted into every drug they do or don't prescribe

Is this what makes us strong?

Not the bones, solid and strong

That thread through our bodies like twine

My esophagus is braided in kerosene

This reality is too often times the match

And I may not be strong

But I am not weak

We are not weak