The Ballad of the Benzos
I told myself it was medicine a small white pause button for the noise I told myself I deserved some rest that I’d been good long enough to borrow quiet
The bottle made a sound like relief pretending not to be loud Benzos don’t kick the door in they pull up a chair lower your shoulders say just lie down for a minute
Memory went first then intention then the careful architecture I’d built out of mornings and rules Time softened at the edges like a photograph left in the sun
I don’t feel high that’s the lie that works best I felt gone smoothed out and edited my fear wrapped in cotton and put somewhere I wouldn’t check
But the body keeps receipts hands forgot their strength Words slid past their meanings Sleep became a tunnel with no exit sign When I awoke, shame was waiting fully dressed
Relapse isn’t a fall it’s a slow leaning toward what once saved you and now only erases Its waking up with holes where hours should be and knowing exactly why
I am here again counting fragments saying the truth out loud so it doesn’t calcify Benzos promise mercy but change interest in days you can’t get back
Still, the fact that I noticed the face that I stopped the fact that I’m naming it now means the story isn’t over
Withdrawal will be honest Recovery will be loud I will have to feel everything again but feeling, even this beats disappearing with my eyes wide open
