The thing about Lou

My neurotransmitters were on a cigarette break, this time.
My inhibition had left a post it note on my brain that it was gone for the evening and not to wait up.
My dopa-mine levels got a tattoo that read, “fuck waiting” the same day.
Drink one and then drink two…
It’s not my fault my body reacted slowly to the word no and green lights were everywhere.
It’s not my fault that I staggered into the warmest conversation in the vicinity.
It’s not my fault my sexual urges decided to sing their battle cries.
I couldn’t stop the blackout where I temporarily forgot that what I was doing was all kinds of wrong.
I couldn’t stop the trick that instead of true sadness what I felt was, great.
I couldn’t stop the fact that addiction had taken hold and my heart was crying lust.
Then he came, Then he came, then HE CAME. Gentle Stimulation~ over a quick conversation…
So my ventral stria-tum threw confetti in my face.
So my control center behind my eyes saw pleasure and no pain.
So my glutamate got trapped in a ditch and it’s cell signal died.
Drink twenty one and then drink twenty two…
I’m sorry for loosening up so loose enough to let myself act up again.
I’m sorry for not being smart enough to choose smart drugs like Ritalin.
I’m sorry for reverting to the rear view for behavior cues. I’m sorry that I keep hurting you.
Then he went, then he went, now he is gone. Side effect of intoxication~ no retaliation…
Drink thirty one and then drink thirty two…
In me, alcohol is not faithful to you.

2015-10-11 18.50.28

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