Dopamine Junkie’s recipe for the blues,
which descended upon her with a
thunderous roll at the end of this Tuesday:

Enter home.
2 advil.
1 Excedrin.
Glass of water.
2 bowls to my head.
Insert Herbaliser featuring Latryx 8Pt. Agenda.
Select Repeat 1.
Nod head.
Let the truth and positivity of pure hip hop, the bass and the beats blow my mind.
Submit my body to the bass line.
Dance.

Feel the lift. Up up Up.

Exhale.

I was a delicate egg walking around
my City today, alone.

Grey fast moving clouds
high clouds low clouds
Sutro Tower against a sky in flux
Does the City make my mood?
Do I really feel this way?
Would I feel so melancholy
if I were on a sunny beach?

Egg being tapped all around
Too much tapping and I’ll crack
so leave the Egg alone

The egg. the eggshell.
The shell. Hard candy coated.
For my creamy nougat center.
For the infintesimal kernel
of sentient meat inside.
Pulsing with energy.

When I am alone I am either catatonic,
or hard and bitter.

When I feel the onslaught of heartache
I light up to create a smokescreen
Herbs. Cigarettes. What’s the difference?
Dark glasses to protect my eyes
from the shame of tears
evidence of my weakness.

I dismiss the thoughts.
I dismiss the feelings.
I dismiss myself.
Everything is as it should be.
My life is as I have made it.
Every conscious action and word
created this miasma, this flux.

“Is that what’s really wrong?”
a question put to me.

Bitter smile.
How should I know? It’s all a miasma now.
Impossible to sift through the pain and the anger,
to find out what’s “really wrong.”

I can’t speak it you see.
I can write it. Where I can choose my words with elegance and diplomacy.
Where I can walk away from the screen.

I know I know
I’m strong enough to stand alone
Stand alone, stoic.
like a man.
as I learned from men.

But it hurts sometimes.
Only just sometimes.
I try to keep my heartache to myself.
Not involve anyone else.
Smile convincingly.
Cover it up with a thick sex vibe.

because I lost myself
I gave it all away
I thought the last one was the Last
I learned to love so hard
to fall all the way down
because I was holding someone else’s hand
and the love we generated
made me feel strong
Maybe it was just a chemical reaction
That could yield no more
Because the elements were exhausted.

I want to call things what they are.
And let the content define the meaning.

I am single.
Self-effacing.

A driving need, not nihilistic
but to burn myself down to the ground
negate it all
What remains, that which resists effacement
defines what I am made of.

Destroying every layer of softness
so I can rebuild myself from a Core.

Start over.
And not betray myself this time.