Red Flags

I found the following
“grocery list”
in my pocket today
when I was doing laundry:

Paint thinner
Hydrogen peroxide

Food serves very little purpose
In the life of an addict
Usually just a little sugar
To kill the stomach cramps
Then you’re finished
With food

I called in sick
To my physical
Cause I was too high to drive

If I get another dirty piss test
Those fuckers will put me back
On the inside.
And its not as bad as jail

But at least on the outside
I can make explosives in my tub
Make a list of people to kill
And fall asleep reading
The Anarchist cookbook.


Sock hop for retards

The most beautiful love story
I’ve ever known
Was never in a book with a worn
Golden angelic back.

And genuine

The dance between me and the high

It can bring tears to my eyes
It can make me sing to myself out loud
It can even turn the dragons
Into pink flying dogs (like in the Never ending Story)

The ups and downs
The lows make the highs possible
But the up is never high enough
A backwards limbo of trying to reach
Into the giant helium balloon

But even endless supplies of Nitrous
Would not satisfy this stubborn selfish girl
I always have to push the envelope off of the makeshift table
Landing right on my breathing strip

You’ll have to learn how to self-destruct
If you ever want to love me.

Grab your 3-D glasses from Jaws 3
Turn on your Christmas lights
And brace yourself for an
Old school white trash
Kind of insanity
Insanity and love
Love for the goddamn high
And insane for knowing it
And still reaching for it like the
Last ripe apple on the tree of sin

Sometimes this high you seek
Seems to be a myth
Like the sasquatch, or the female orgasm.
Other times you just know its there
Your very own pipe dream
That you deep throat like you’re getting paid to

And none of it is real
That’s why it will always be beautiful.

The fucking dance
I do with the high
Makes Greased Lightning
Look like a sock hop for retards

And the beauty
Hurts to look at.

Trading one vice for another

After weeks of waking up and saying
“tomorrow I’m going to give my stash to my neighbor”
“tomorrow I’m gonna sell my stash”
with no follow thru
about a week ago

I flushed easily 100 dollars of weed
Down the toilet.

And there are vigilantes in this trailer park
They declared war on me
The minute they saw
That I was marked

But yesterday was a good day
Yesterday was a great day
A motorcycle ride along the coast

But this morning I woke up
And started taking vodka shots
For no reason
Without thinking
Automatic as the money they take out of your account
When you bounce a check.

I feel like I’ve been bounced
And those mother fuckers are grading on my nerves
They are fucking with the wrong person
I have nothing to lose
I will always win

Now I’m having fantasies
About the scene in Trainspotting
Where Ewan jumped headfirst into the toilet
To retrieve his lost
Opiate suppositories

I remember that rats can fit into
Any place that they can get their head thru
And I’m wondering how I would dry out all that weed
Seeing as how I’m not so dry these days.

Drinking vodka and juice alone
On a Wednesday afternoon
Can make you feel like you have
All those guts
You lost years ago.

Debbie Kirk is a 31 year old writer\artist in Austin Texas.
Check out her website at

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