writing has always cleared my mind, and there are just somethings that you figure out about yourself when you can methodically adjust what you want to say.

here is a prose poem that describes the anger, depression, and self destruction influenced by substances…

Out of my Bones
by Greg Lines

something has come over me
a tingling in my finger tips
reality burns and i'm loosing my grip
a constant ring devouring my brain
i'm not getting hot, i'm already up in flames
i'd bake some sense if only my words
didn't taste so sweet
i am melting, there is no question
my eyes are bulging
my ego will explode from self indulging.

this life is going no where
i am going no where
stuck in traffic; grid lock
my intuition says green light go
but my body is just blinking yellow
my mind is stuck on a
solid red light-
it is all one way streets
with stop signs
and no U turns every 5 feet.

chard vocal chords rapt tightly
to my pen, a sword stuck in stone
i am glued to the floor alone, i am stone
doubt of my bones
where intoxication is my home,
i want to never want anything again
so i push with every weakend muscle
in my body
a blasphemy of what i use to be
what i could be, the person i should be.

I am no mannequin, i will stand again
dress myself again, breathe oxygen
cleanse myself of all delusions
reality will sink its teeth into my soul
a serpent with an appetite of a fool
but its not an illusion, not magic
the picture plays and the audience applause
reality you look so tragic
tonight i soaked in all the colors of the sun
and at sunrise this world still remains senseless, hopeless,

a channel stuck on static