Jane Isn’t So Special After All

Jane often disappears after our brief interactions.
And,
Anytime we do,
It always hits the fan while,
Blowing up in smoke…

What seems like a break from absorbing her hits,
Is more like an instance of burning a bridge.
The more that I’m given what numbs my soul,
The more I’m distant from flames that wither when you,
Let go…

I see poison ivy from a far!
Every time I bat my eyes and notice I’ve been robbed from a sticky situation I was caught in,
By the webs of curiosity and depression.
Like,
Will this be the last itch compelling me to crawl back to her?
Or,
Am I sentenced?
To infinite amount of ‘bars’ I spend my time spreading,
Across a leaf where I lose myself as soon as I break from what I’ve stemmed from…

But,
There are two sides to every coin.
One day I’ll get some good gas and roll a joint,
Until I gas out while,
Losing my drive to ever use my voice.
Other days,
I lay it all out on a page,
And,
Face the world around me while blocking out every bit of noise,
So that I can pay for my sins and fill an empty void,
Within a heart that can’t ever be robbed of its joy…

Yet,
Only I have allowed it to be.
Each moment I’ve chosen to reach,
For a lighter,
Rather than a pen full of ink,
Washing away the blank spaces in my mind with a set of colors I can see,
Repainting a pitiful future I know should never be my destiny.
That old picture of myself where I die wrestling,
With Mary Jane!
Who I put a ring on while squared against every defect in these,
Hands once so busy deflecting each,
Menacing thought shrouding an inner-child now free!
From a prison made by the weed smoke no longer overshadowing all He is meant to be…

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