Arnold Wilson Writes

In the end I’m just a junkie. A wretched alcoholic, fiening to drown in every drop of whiskey. Getting high watching time fly. Shoutout to the prophet. We weren’t listening then and can’t hear it now, for all this damn noise. The steam created by the mixture of smoke, my hot breath, and the ice cubes sitting in Jack Daniels set the scene. Clarity in the fog, that’s where the junkie lives. I ain’t never banged shit, or sucked a glass dick. And, I don’t plan to; but I’ll never say never again. Ever seen a down bitch flip, never thought I would. That’s for another fucking time. Now I done everything right; took my ass to work, made sure these kids straight, my people straight, momma took care of. I even carried my ass to the gym; can’t get soft. Motherfucker I been thirsty all day! Water ain’t not help. I’m tripping. Shit, like I was saying. I ain’t never been no crack head, tweaker, or on that boy. But, they’s been plenty of times I been nodded off on some pills. Drunker than shit driving all on the sidewalk. Lucky my ass made it home, at fourteen in my momma’s minivan, all the way cross town cutting the fuck on up. Man, how did I make it here? Look at God. Still feel right on the edge. Guess I’ll pour another drink.