Author: Drew Henry

Code X

you already made it

stay down on the come up

take my medication, whip her up some tea

need good head in a cozy bed

i’ll steady for the dosage

she heard about me from a friend

till death do us all part

started a practice of meditation

prayer to the manifestation of the most high

smoke to the ethereal beats

Sylvia Plath would understand my purpose

the lilac trees & the dope style

i walk into the party like i run shit

down on my luck, but i’m with the shit

you can’t win in life so i count my losses

baggy sagged fader

magazines line the coffee table

miserable man stuck in decrepit ways

anything to preoccupy us

i resign & recline

why are people still on socials?

i will write something inspired

but the inspiration comes from the void

break downs mean nothing in the grand scheme

how dope could one person really be?

the tunes are all set

i’m making arrangements for my funeral

nobody’s in attendance

life doesn’t matter

so please smoke another cigarette

smoke sesh, ocean depths

i’m jus a teenage dirtbag

except i’m a 31 year old loser

kill me in all black

grey undertones in the asphalt air

heir to the throne & no one’s in the crowd

throw middle fingers up because life’s fucked

the drugs have all been used

drug abusers up & down the block

lock myself in my room

then turn the music all the way up

life is nothing but what you think & wear

did you eat? do you need a smoke?

sip your tea & read a book or something

somehow life isn’t over yet

all this shit goes over my head

i’m better off dead

C’est la Vie

dope up on the counter

slide past… i know the high never lasts

don’t mind what the other boys up to

swallow a pill

decompress to take the edge off

vanquish the toxic build up

let the demons disperse

only allowing angelic divinity to subside

here i sit, jus up to nothing really…

almost wishing i had snagged the dope off the counter

i made a beneficial decision

but all these things too bleak

and this cigarette is much too dry

so i hit the vape & sip heavily iced coffee

let that ice me out the same way the dope would

tab on the tongue from memory’s past

if memory had a memory

i guess it may dwell too long

roots deep, plots thicken

caught up around a rose bush

the thorn snagged my skinny wrist

i shave my little scruffy whiskers

stay as clean as possible

keep my appearance gucci & whiskers neat

jus another day in my usual drab grunge fit

baggy long sleeve under a baggier short sleeve

designer jeans with a serene disposition

mildly soothing temperament

not a charge, drug bust or imposition

jus a kid with a pure heart & vulnerabilities

forever seeking to dispel bad energy

wait for the pharmaceuticals to dissolve

if pimps didn’t have to get with hoes

and hoes was really a compliment

then maybe not as much would be expected

and whatever you do wouldn’t carry so much weight on your aching slouched shoulders

the trauma cuts too deep

and i jus hope for a specific cushioned softness

you deserve a cute coziness, comfort & clarity

pleasant kind of numbness

i only ever received via benzodiazepines

relationships could be sweet

like cocoa butter kisses

maybe God made us endure Hell

so we’d have perspective on the matter

appreciate the bittersweetness of life

so we could fully appreciate Heaven

celebrate life + pour one out for the homies

ending was never linear, nor cyclical

not the end, each day a new beginning

bright eyes… first day of my life

i’m wide awake, it’s morning

breakfast of champions

coffee in bed

best friend & girlfriend in the kitchen

cigarettes on the balcony

newspaper still found a way

to the front porch

jus the insta & X feed

snap a pic to the OGs

we never bought into the whole thing too much

cutest girl pours coffee into her Yeti

she’s off to work at her dope little tattoo shop

kitty comes up to cuddle with me

then i snugly hold onto her

as her paw rests on my heart & she purrs

turn on some snowboard film on the TV

a little background aesthetic

the kitten jumps off to the scratchpad

then hops up on the window ledge

i feed water into the drip coffee machine

jus let the medium roast coffee brew

and also foam up some frothy oat milk

i whip up some espresso shots

and drink the cappuccino quick

sip at the drip coffee i add Baileys to

Ça va? Çomme ci comme ca… ça va? ça va…

So it goes.

need a cute girl by my side

ride or die

night glides into midnight moonlight

to dawn… new moves & a soft sight

sight for sore eyes

this new wit whittles down to nothing

come up off something

so serene the way light hangs off the moon

sunset fleeting if only for a moment

but trust me, there will be more

slutty little bitty jus wanted your number

who cares about her past?

she still wanted you, didn’t she?

faded at dusk & twilight

no sense to make sense

of these convoluted thoughts

she looked too cute, i guess

and i guess, best case scenario

she’d never stray too far away

and stay dressed in high tops & a hoodie

and i’d wrap my arms cozily around her

shaking bones & little quirks soften

intensity no longer overbearing

jus her heartbeat close to my own

i’ll never be able to figure this shit out

girls go through a billion things a day

i jus wanna be thoughtless

with a thot sitting bedside

besides, i was never really worried about anything

jus want an angel close by where i reside

someone to confide in

without shady passive aggressiveness

love you

till next time

i’ll be listening to tunes

catching up on some old shows

you know that ‘California… here we come’ (the OC) kinda vibe & ‘you know you love me… xoxo, gossip girl’

anyways shouts out to readers & writers everywhere

sincerest regards & all of the best wishes

xoxo, drew baby

long lost trodden state

where do you wander off to

little lonely star

—

i smoked cigarettes

thinking about you only

piece this last with you

—

writing here again

out of pure necessity

what do writers do?

—

little cute readings

dharma bum sipping some tea

climbing the mountain

—

pour up cup of joe

coffee date with a cute girl

cold brew with oat milk

—

got to write the novel

i tell myself i’ll write soon

yet i put it off

—

energy shifting

avoid the place it drains out

seek pure energy

—

all goes up in smoke

lost just blowing in the wind

souls live forever

—

someone says hello

I respond back gently… kind

so nice to see you

—

haikus kind of cool

art is in the poetry

ignore the complex

—

bored… so commonplace

you could have thousands of books

yet never read one

—

sitting all lonesome

someone sits by close to me

numb feelings trickle

some poetry means something to me

some to everyone else

as the whole thing plays out

i jus write over & over again

to the universal feeling

of the whole damn thing

not always about me

sometimes about what all souls

every single soul could possibly

ever go through in life

those in A.A. going back to meeting

to get another coin for two weeks

those who worked everyday on a 9-5

+ haven’t touched the pint

in 7 minutes to seven days to a month to seven to a year, but are headed back on their way to a 7eleven

i’m sorry for the sins of me

& my brothers out in ski towns or beach huts or sisters going to Church every Sunday jus to get back with one guy to the next

i got so many things to express about the plight of all individuals, most especially those who ever bummed around & badly needed a cigarette

or the booze head trying to just decompress & slow down a bit with a coffee & baileys

i really do hope u don’t take my lil writings too seriously. after all, the way i write is just trying to figure out universal energy & show some type of empathy to human issues we all must conceptualize & try to wade through to contemplation & a little sympathy & movement towards a little more optimism & positively enlightened energy day in & day out.

i forgot i was smoking this cigarette & it went out… time to toss it in the ash try, another one gone again… then off to fetch my coffee, refresh all of the socials & check out the lil football stats & all that & then decently quickly light up a brand new & so refreshingly mellow & relieving Marlboro 27 cigarette with my cute pink kitty Bic lighter i got at the gas station & continue my whole little enterprising escapade of this whole deep dive into the literature of the whole thing, smoke & coffee in hand, a trip to 7eleven in the a.m.

chat so soon.

love you sis + fam

miss u always mom + KJ

sincerest regards,

drew henry (Audiomack)

X @ripmylastcig

insta + threads @ripmylastcig

snapchat @drewboohenry

blog: idkxyxx.art.blog

This is all so stupid

$uicideboy$ in the D.A.R.E. t shirts

Smoking… you know, a breath of fresh air

can’t write the novel… it’s played out

poetry + music comes in doses

sedatives & stimulants go a long way

What’s anyone ever even talking about

Small talk… gossip… small talk… gossip… back & forth sway of it all

Banter… banter… banter

Music… it’s a beautiful thing

Dip out of the party in a few seconds

Want you to look me in the eyes for 10 seconds & hold me tight for a little while, hug me so close before I break down crying like a lil baby

It’s really not too bad

Break down tobacco by my side

Car broken down on the side of the road

What do you want from me? me & my aloof tendencies, hopelessness blues & addictive personality

trendsetters all but gone away

who’s actually hot & who’s not

need the pharmacy to deliver like the US Postal Service

where do we go from here

i’m on a cloud… the last thing i need is benzodiazepines

oh you again… fashionably late looking low key kinda hot… so cute

Dead batteries, suicide boys & the baddest girls just seemed like a pressing topic I’d at some point need to address, either today or tomorrow or a year from now… or never.

Over here, I’m chain smoking whatever I could get, whenever at all possible — I’ll always find a way to stay chain smoking, whether I’m homeless or housed.

I’m reading a novel called Women by Bukowski. We both aren’t the best looking, but each of us has our ways & certain wisdom as pertaining to the opposite sex, the more divine one.

Damn, Bukowski always makes me laugh. Women & all of the girls in general always seem to put a smile on my face. They literally make the world go around.

Because, frankly, men are lazy & pathetic… even more so when they don’t have women around. But damn, men aren’t all bad.

Guess most of us are just simple minded. Hell, women sure do often complicate things… the whole process.

We try to impress each other, while acting like we’re not all that interested. It all seems like such a lousy way to live life… like we’re above it all?

Sometimes you got to be. Well, most of us have moved on from all of that crying-over-someone-you-love & fake-empathetic-sympathizing-and-nice bullshit. It’s played out.

Be cooler than that. I regret admitting it, but I’ve kind of turned into a so-called ‘playa’.

So my main three rules to the game are: playas gonna play; don’t hate the player, hate the game; and never get hung up on one girl (I used to do that… trust me, a miss only leads to a better next swing & there’s way more than just that girl down the block… there’s thousands, if not millions more, and girls like playing the game as much as the guys do, so it doesn’t hurt to play as much as you want, no matter how many losses you’ve racked up).

In the meantime, let’s be honest, I pretty much am up to nothing or jerking off as a matter of pure boredom or again up to nothing & could really care less about anything worth a damn besides maybe my writing & task of smoking 40 cigarettes & listening to the same songs everyday.

Really, my agenda 24/7 is: to smoke too many cigarettes, drink lots of coffee, read from time to time, write when the timing feels right, sometimes watch Narcos on Netflix or the saga about Wu Tang on Hulu & exclusively listen to Bones & $uicideboy$ & Lil Peep.

It’s a pretty good life. A lot could be said, though, about the fact that my last two book purchases were Naked Lunch (…by Burroughs about narcotics, filled with dark humor, witty banter & satire) & Bukowski’s Women.

Some fiend for dope & drugs in the slums & cities; some of the same people & others also fiend for women & sex.

Fuck love, really, but lots of us — on some base, animalistic & lustful level — crave sex… on an almost similar level, we crave women around us. Drugs go hand in hand, or sometimes offer a replacement to sex & women.

Lastly, really I’m chain smoking & simply binge listening to cloud rap lately simply due to (straight to the nitty gritty): my lack of success with both life in general & really attracting the perfect kind of girl.

Life & girls (which one is more important?) seem more & more hopeless as the years go by… the two ways I found of coping with inevitable lifelong heartbreak & becoming a deadbeat kind of guy — just like my dad (due to constant obstacles) — is through the relieving pick me up & sedation of nicotine in the form of a cigarette (I prefer natural tobacco over vapes… something about the high hits differently, almost rawer with cigarettes) as well as the equally relieving pick me up & sedation of music, more specifically cloud rap — even more specifically, Bones & $uicideboy$ & Lil Peep, who all feature better beats & flows than most artists these days.

I’ve heard just about enough Country & Indie & Jazz & Electronic, to be honest. All of that sappy shit grinds at & hurts my ears… even when it’s not sappy, rather almost endearing or heart aching, it still somehow seems so inauthentic & lacking in ingenuity.

I’d argue & say, instead, branching away from most mainstream music in today’s age, that the three artists I’m heavily rotating lately — Bones & $uicideboy$ & Lil Peep — are hands down the best hip hop artists & maybe artists in any genre.

This whole emo trap cloud rap trend started back in 2015, as three of them began trends, a whole new .wav & started coming up in their own way: Bones (rapper for TeamSesh: a collective of sorts that started up with producers like Cat Soup & Drew The Architect) & $uicideboy$ (two cousins who decided to either make it as artists in the music industry or kill themselves if all failed… a little pact Scrim & Ruby had) & Lil Peep (lead artist in Goth Boi Clique who was one of the dopest new emo kids in the game at the time & started a certain trend to the ‘crybaby’ & ‘sadboiszn’ type shit early on, singing about drugs & girls without caring whether it was cool or not to focus so much on the two like his life itself depended on both the drugs & girls… and it really did because it was found out that he had passed away in 2017 in November after 2 girls gave him Xanax laced in fentanyl before he went back on the tour bus)… They got the ball rolling.

The initial three artists in their respective groups came up, made a scene & switched up the game.

Although it seems almost cult-like or morose to listen to these kinds of artists — like Bones or $B or Lil Peep, who waver towards ideas of death & some darker themes — listening to them still brings on so much high energy in the intake of their potent sounds that conceivably anyone could become a captivated listener.

Every album of each of theirs carries heavy weight, with a remarkable amount of blunt truth found in all of their lyrics & well mixed soothing instrumentation that balances grimy & lush elements, incorporating everything from Memphis Drill, Long Beach Emo, New Orleans Trap & Detroit Boom-Bap influences to incredibly intricate mixtures of powerful 808s & aesthetic synthesizer melodies.

They also include splashes of humorous or candid or revealing little clips & skits & ad-libs thrown in at the intro or outro of some songs, or as stand-alone tracks.

No song by Bones & $uicideboy$ & Lil Peep is the same (as these artists switch things up here & there), but one can grow accustomed to a similar vibe on each of the artists’ tracks: music to smoke to that helps make sense of the idea of death & cope with the fact that most things in life are detrimental (we only really need, or should gravitate towards, a few more beneficial things).

pointless calls on a Nokia flip phone in 2004

i used to tug at my mom’s sweater sleeves when I felt a sense of fear towards God & those trying to rob me of everything I love & hold closely dear in my heart… so equally weak in its wishful tenderness & as strong as my ability to meditate on the miracle of existence & experience, reflecting with deep breaths, awareness of safe spaces & comfort zones — only smoking cigarettes when the time feels like it is slowly diminishing the spark in my soul, a way to light the way in the darkness & dwell on everything with gratitude & come back to self… once close to home & in my heart & head, I can finally escape from the tortures & torments of perception. Only what we perceive & focus on — either muddled in confusion or fully embraced with clarity — has any kind of bullheaded control of our fate… as I step aside to avoid experiencing exposure to a type of self imposed opposition by any task force member against one’s self, seeking to beam me up & extinguish the light within.

i don’t like the way you attempt to corrode my thoughts & invade my space kind sir…

c’est la vie monsieur, he replies…

je ne sais pas… ça va?

ça va, c’est la vie.

now, this emphatic man comes up to me — not even remotely sympathetically sensitive to the vulnerabilities of mental disabilities & trauma — & soon interrogates me about the thoughts that intrusively gnaw at the back of my head… thoughts that aren’t my own

he wants me to head some bad place far away with him & before i could hardly refuse, he’s whisking me off for no reason to somewhere I don’t want to go & had no intention of going to whatsoever.

This is all a search & rescue, but instead of rescue, it’s a search & abandon & abuse. I’m sensitive to people in positions of power taking advantage of the less fortunate.

the mind control by the current day & age’s government & law enforcement is at times relentless & uncomfortably unbearable & by no means should I subject myself to a subduing of sorts of my actually so wholeheartedly genuine & gently kind soul, as well as to a practice of data mining, manipulating & even controlling every little process of thoughts.

i am not a puppet with which you can literally place things on my hands & implicate that I did anything more than committing the sin of enjoying my vice of smoking cigarettes & sipping maybe too much coffee today, when maybe one could argue i should begin reading the Bible instead a tiny bit more.

A number pops in my head & a thousand thoughts flood in my inbox in a not too expected, undesirable fashion. Some of these thoughts are kindly aligned with the divinity I believe in my heart to truthfully paint vivid pictures of this universe we accept as something naturally inherited. But then again, other thoughts demean my very existence & crash into my head like a demonic Beamer driving too fast on the highway of my imperfect mind… not that any mind — including mine — is or isn’t perfect, so long as ego is kept naturally at a balance between high & low, just a touch of confident dignified self esteem & worth, but also grounded enough to see the perceived issues we deal with go way beyond us: an issue almost all of humanity deals with… issues we work through, thoughts & feelings we cope & respond gentle heartedly to…

finding time for both work & play, dealing with consequences & grinding enough to set aside time for self healing & decompression in response to any latent edginess we feel that we further must take care of & release this angst through chemically balancing substance, progress, motion & sensitivity & acceptance of the whole human condition relative to our own stance, mindfulness & perspective in our own corner niche of the world.

Two things I know for sure:

Nobody puts baby in a corner…

&

Pressure makes diamonds.

I graduated from a cute vigorously little Catholic high school around the OC area in San Juan Capistrano — living in infinity pool paradise & so too an infinitely costly & extra altogether rewarding, relieving & hustling & bustling crib funded by none other than my mom & step dad, living with the spouses & my amazing sis

— mom & sis both infinitely & forever my angels — as well as two of the dopest step brothers around… with my dad a few cities over, never too far away, an intelligently sincere & humorously wise man who would always show me what’s important: to just have fun… my whole family showed me that.

My stepdad showed me life requires a dose of responsibility & being accountable for actions… that actions speak louder than words — as I write & write & then write some more. My beautiful best friend soul-linked kind of ex of mine once asked me: what do great writers do? I had no idea.

She clued me in with a simple response which I never quite understood until a realization dawned on me a few months to half year or so ago: ‘great writers write’

— I’ve had two girlfriends… so far at least, my ride or dies in their own way, the first lasting just under 3 years of ups & downs & a little over 3 years so far as the other went: they helped to guide me to my next shot, next kiss, next miss & back for another shot & maybe sometimes I’d sink a basket.

I played Varsity Athletics — basketball & volleyball — and earned a 4.17 GPA, studying Cultural Geography, AP Biology, AP European History, AP Language, AP Literature, AP French & Trigonometry or Calculus or whatever (I was failing math… badly, falling asleep on my book, drooling & knocking my textbook materials over off of my desk after early morning rises, not wanting to hit the snooze on the alarm clock & clocking in to hit the gym with my fellow teammates & coach Tim before the classes, the girls, the home made snack & lunch, hydrating on plenty of water), always carrying my Nalgene bottle around so I’d be able to dash on the basketball court & run dive lines on the volleyball court

— all the same court… just a different day, different game. Who’s to say you won’t get a kiss from your first true, almost more infatuating kind of love on the way back home after asking her out to Homecoming with one rose & a cute little letter with a picture of two little kids on a swing & all of that… she was all I ever wanted on my sweet 16th, as well as a car & a good game out on the sand volleyball courts.

Catholic school definitely poses challenges & some restrictions & not a whole lot of lax & leisure to say the least, but the uniforms & outfits always were kind of cool — the routine of it all kind of constantly a sprint from class to class saying hi to the homies who you saw everyday with maybe a little nun like ruler wrist slap every now & then… the best was behind us… a lot was in the near future, but the story was really just starting to be written & come to fruition.

Life was opening a window with a key to so many new experiences in the future.

Alongside of my first GF, I got the acceptance letter to University of California, Davis & enrolled for the Fall Quarter of 2012… ensuing concerts & maybe diving in to this substance & that, being hazed & faking like I really actually wanted to be in a fraternity. I sipped coffee & dipped out of Greek Life so I could focus on the little things — coffee, quiet reads & little walks & wine on the grassy lawn & working as a barista of sorts at the ASUCD Coffee House. My GF & I went to a Halloween Costume Day Drinking Party with white t-shirts on that said ‘Extra Virgin Olive Oil’.

So funny and yes… you guessed it. I was still a virgin. She was Catholic after all. Whatever, it was never too much of a priority for me anyways.

But the girls come & the girls go, like similarly eventual cigarettes would always come, the pack would run low & there I was making my way over to the corner store to pick up some more… a little pick me up, a little score.

I’d watch sports at bars, drinking craft beers, hazy, stout, IPA, but really just liked light beer — Corona, Pacifico, Bud Light & things of that nature. I started collecting vinyl records, CDs & cassettes, going to all the coolest record stores & coffee shops & dive bars & hookah lounges & matcha shops & farmer’s markets, etc. with my second girlfriend (there’s been about four, but she was the last lasting so impactful in her way in the span of the last 31 years… just two that lasted any kind of expanded, extended, seemingly limitless & life altering imbued heartfelt & eventually heartbreaking kind of way).

Quarter Systems were quick, but it took me 6 years to graduate. Davis ended up being the best time in my life from Ski or Snowboard Club in 2016 to the SoundCloud era of 2017 to graduating… 4.17 to about a 3.0 with a Bachelor of Arts in Psychology. I had experimented with about 2 dozen majors — so many options from Brewing classes to Viticulture to Advanced Journalism courses on the ‘next .wav of the degenerate generation’ to Landscape Architecture & Sociology. My girlfriend — my best friend & love of my life — went along on adventures with me from Orange County to Yosemite to Bay Area nights & New York mornings & Marin homie hangouts.

The whole experience was so cool.

A couple years went by & I was living on my own again. She got married… for the best — definitely ended up working out alright because I got a three year job as a barista & sandwich artist & flatbread chef at a market on the West Shore of Tahoe.

I believe my ex Gabs may have semi recently received a PhD. I guess she went after her dream of being in the therapy or psychiatry field after getting her Masters & Bachelors of Science with similar, almost even more refined success than my first girlfriend. She really did that. I’m so stoked for her. She really made that happen. We both did.

I produced music on the digital audio workspace Ableton while with her from 2016-2020, utilizing looped samples & audio clips from popular TV shows & classic films. I love you LS. I love you Gabs. I love all of my exes. I love my fam first & foremost & God & all of the day one homies. And I also love all of you for checking this out, whether you dive into the extensive readings — a poetry collection & fiction novel — or you decide, instead to come back some other day.

Maybe you never get around to my little writings or a piece doesn’t strike a chord or a note… cute little sentiment; hopefully these reach you well & at peace internally relative to all of the external surroundings influencing our day to day in the Galaxy & Universe, Mother Nature & the eminent ecstasy in Afterlife… elusive Nirvana no longer elusive anymore, moments away.

Thanks for taking the time out of your day to read. As a creative artist, I love to create art. The more the merrier. So the more the merrier take in the experience of it all with me on this little side project — not really even a hustle…just the hobby I would do forever if I could, probably would, and yeah… I probably will forever do indefinitely.

You can find me in Reno, Nevada currently, writing, producing, envisioning filming some grunge hood rat skate inspired film on a camcorder one day & playing guitar… metaphorically kind of skating by, skirting out, sipping, smoking & vibing. To those I love, thank you for sticking around.

Stay Blest