To hell

You look like you’ve had it. Want a beer?

Beer! Hah! How about some heroin?

You’re not serious.

Oh yes — some heroin would be lovely just now.
Right into this arm here.
I’d thrill to the fear of the strap and the needle.
And to hell with the consequences!
It’s a good thing we haven’t got any, really.

I didn’t think you did any drugs.

No, only alcohol
for temporary self-destruction,
for going to hell with the consequences.
Alcohol… then music. Sound-places
where I could truly be lost.
Music my substance.
Music my valium, my heroin,
my personal tequila moonrise.
But where’s my music now?
There’s so much noise in this place,
all shrilling and babbling and rattling,
and music that I just bounce off.
It doesn’t take me anywhere.
It doesn’t collect me at all.
And when they clatter themselves to a stop, at last,
I crave silence
and hear nothing
and stay empty.

Oh come on, have a beer!