all the jar lids popped down on row
upon row of salsa, sauce, and ketchup,
I was still grounded. But at least
Mom wasn’t as mad anymore.
Burned Out
Burning
up, coming down,
I popped three
aspirin against the
throbbing
in my skull, and
attempted a nap.
I laid in bed,
sweating
out toxins, the
last of the E
and crank,
aching
from the inside
out. Could I ever
shift into reverse?
Falling
from euphoria,
I face-planted into
depression. Hard,
somersaulting
through your own
manure. Harder yet
to get back up without
tripping