Never get too tired.
Never get too hungry.
Never get too bored.
Never get too lonely.

Vice had me
long before
I made it home.
It was all I could think
to do for the night.
No written word.
No companionship.
Just gimme more of my drug
and it never seems enough.
 
Never get too high.
Never get too easy.
Never get too sad.
Never get too empty.

Now I’m filled
with all of these chemicals,
both consumable
and woven through the brain.
But they are not designed
to be forever states.
A spiraling begins, and 
all the fuel gets dumped.

Now I’m hollow,
so hollow,
and what was hallowed
is conflagration–
now there’s a man
who never learned
how to overcome his own heat.

Never get too angry.
Never get too desp’rate.
Never get too lost.
Never get too loveblind.

This is
poetry for failures
because the world doesn’t know
it could have lost me
not so long ago.
Poetry for failures
because the world does lose
people every day
less resilient than I.

Trust me
when I warn you
that anything-
absolutely anything-
can get inside your empty
if you leave to neglect and waste
your interior castles.

Become your own fortress
with towers of community.
Be ready
to slam down your portcullis
when evil wants to play.

Find friendship. Find passion.
Pick a pencil up or get onto a podcast.
Make music. Play trivia.
Fill yourself with only those things that nourish you.

And…
Never get too Hungry.
Never get too Angry 
Never get too Lonely.
Never get too Tired.