it creates not a care in the world.

everything is painted in bright colors.

nothing will rain on the parade.

laughing at everything,

“genuinely” feeling good,

cloud nine and soaring higher,

higher and higher,

like a balloon released by a small child,

floating up, up, and away

until

it

all

        comes

                  crashing

    down

low, shivering, sweating, mind racing a million miles a minute,

only one thing on it though.

“how do I get that feeling again?”

the monster comes out, screaming, picking, arguing,

not leaving bed, not turning on the light, too sensitive.

once again, not caring about anything,

yet now it’s not giddiness, it’s despair.

after all, what is life without your fix?

(c.s.b)