115. Wanna be Rockstar

I’m rolling around in dirt covered anxiety.
I tremble and shake as I take another pill.
It’s like a bunch of earthquakes on my property.
I don’t even know how I got so ill.
I have peering eyes all over me.
It makes me get all tipsy.
My boat rocks on the same old sea.
Life jacket no longer gives me safety.
I have voices asking how I’m composed,
But I’m always on my tiptoes
I have on my suit and tie at all times.
“Mr. Rockstar during the weekend at bars?”
I get home from my job of being pristine.
I breathe in deep as I try to stay clean,
Until the locks trap me here with steam.
Like a balloon filled to the brim,
I sail on by going even higher.
Days gone to wonder,
Pop, I become lighter.
Tabloids say I died taking pills 
To press my lips against death.
Not remembered as lifeless stills
Overdosed on depressions meth.

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