My alcohol and weed

 I hate that time is running...

Stay with me a little longer. If you can? Hold me tighter, and smile while you are it. Tell me you don't want to leave but you have to. Tell me I'm the best thing that has ever happened to you. Tell me those jokes again, hear me retell stories I've told you before 

The only music I want to hear is the one that comes with a deep breath, of cuss words and fuss. Of thrusting and Sin. But I'll choose to squeeze myself in your packet blue shirt, laughing and passing blunts and drown in alcohol

Why is your heart pounding? What do you want to say? “You just texted me that you are leaving” leaving to where? What's going on? Are you sick? Are you in trouble?  You are fighting a tear, you have never been like this. The only time I saw you close to tears was when you came to pick me up for your exhibition, the one that meant the world to you, but you saw me almost drowning in alcohol. I had cut myself with the bottle and my red gown looked redder

Or the other day I promised to go for the interview but then I forgot cause I was waiting for my plug. You say there are more days when you cry, and you are crying for me. I'm surprised what's wrong with me?  I have told you countless times that ill pick up my writing career, it will be the best seller and you won't have to bother about paying my bills around here. I'm sorry but I don't want to do 9-5 in this Kaduna. God forbid bad thing. 

I'm a talented writer and my craft will speak for me. 

You look serious, the tears pour down, you are shaking, you tell me that “ you are leaving me” and it's for good. You say, “Rahab you need help” you need to stop this! Get a life! Stop drinking, throw all the weed away, look for a job, call your family, pay your bills, I'm tired!!! 

I'm crying too, touching him in places that usually make him forget. I don't subscribe to capitalism. My craft will work for me, what makes you think my smoking and drinking are bad? Am not even an addict, see! I've not smoked since morning, I'm scratching myself and you look at me. I tell you to stand up and leave, I don't need you or my family to pity me, I don't need “Rehab”

I'm good. You Don't just realize it. I'm a writer and I need my vices.