When it gets bad-bad i recall the scent of his essence, i walk outside in the rain, wearing no coat and hear the city people around me, running for cover like they were Under-fire.  I press the flowers into my face and breathe in deeply and get lost in my senses…  Hard drugs ain’t took for kicks, they’re administered for their ability to beam you up and get you the fuck out of Dodge…  No Long Term Fix in mind, rather instant escape route from the horrors that shadowed over the good that you had going on.  Suicide isn’t an option, and sure as shit ain’t no solution, didn’t make it this far to suck it simple.  It is a constant learning, a way in which to carry your pain and switch shoulders, use pull ropes, tuck away for hours on end through sleep, and carry the weight we will, it just takes different measures on how and where to pack and balance so much grief.  Saddle-bags, Motel Rooms, Storage Units, along the Spine, on the Go, in the backseat, we carry it, we just fucking do and so should you.  Now switch hands.