Rotten Apples

Why is this rotten feeling inside of me whenever I’m not clouded by weed smoke?
Why can’t I just smile and enjoy the day without a teardrop or two drowning that possibility away?
Most call it anxiety,
But,
Maybe it’s my refusal to be myself in world that stopped inspiring me,
The day my ex left me in dumpster of worthlessness while she took the time to keep reminding me.
Yet,
I don’t blame her,
I forgive her!
In hopes she forgives me for my anger and fallacies.
If anything,
I blame myself for letting her absence destroy me while I fought with analogies,
Metaphors,
Punchlines that turned into one rhyme,
To a drunk time and a fun high,
Eventually forgetting what had brought me back from my former decline!
Poetry…
I’m sorry for forgetting you.
No matter what I do,
I promise to look Mary Jane in her face and cut her loose.
No more breaking buds apart,
Or,
Burning bridges with another flick of a lighter loosing its spark.
No longer am I scared of crying while I write my story in the light instead of darkness trying to shroud my soul…
As blunt as I can be,
It’s time to put the joint down and find a way to quit relapsing.
Quit making excuses and make more moves so that I can,
Be at peace…