Insane

I cant speak,

I cant think,

Is it the drugs,

Or is it me?

Am I getting dumber,

Is something wrong

With my brain?

Is it the toxic fumes

I've been taking in,

Breathing in deep

The words that feel so

Comfortable in my chest

Until the lies get sticky

And clog up my airways,

Till im laying here, wondering

If my loss of memory,

Or ability

To write poetry

Is because of the slow loss

Of oxygen to my brain

From years of poison,

Dosed carefully enough,

To make sure I stay

By leaving open the question

Of which one of is

Is actually insane.