Opiod Solutions

 

My life sucks
I hate it
So I hurt myself
Not cause I dig pain
For the medication
Them Oxy’s help big time
Not just for the ache
But for the torment
The hurt in my mind
One makes it easy
Two make it fade
What will three do?
Maybe it will go away
That and a few beers
No more tears
So I get numb
Novocain for the brain
My life still sucks
But I don’t give a shit
So I get even more numb
Finally I’m happy
Don’t fucking care
Maybe I’ll take some more
What bad could happen?
If I take too many
Worst that can happen
I may not wake up
That doesn’t scare me
Something much worse could happen
I might awaken
Find my feeble existence
Is continuing to be
I hate this feeling
I hate this life
Slaving to my emotions
Shackled to my fears
One sure way out
Death
This is the night I do it
Swallow a handful
Get the fuck away from here
But wait….
Maybe I’ll leave the light on
Just in case I come back home

Kick it

I wanna perish but I still cherish the love and affection even though I’m embarrassed in fairness I’m suffering from over impairment
Not to exasperate one good lesson in oppression but my obsession is a digression into a deeper depression. With a jump into aggression a head shrinking session might lesson the tension. Bur t what the Hell for?
My funeral pyre will burn till they tire of the muck and the mire of my death fire the higher I aspire the more dire I cry….Help me before my desire becomes my qualifier for expiring.
I know I should stop before I die or transpire but truth is…….
I still wanna get higher

You May Be A Racist

 

 

Money for opioid addiction. Man it seems to be a very important issue these days, and Politicians are jumping on the bandwagon in an effort to prove how important it is to them. It’s an epidemic! So is this a new phenomenon? Hell no, its been in the ghetto’s for years but it only infected the poor, the disenfranchised, or the thrill seeking suburban teens. It was a problem for the urban youth, code word for minorities. We were happy as hell to just lock up anyone who used drugs so mainstream America could feel safe, far away from the losers and evil criminals. But now it has infiltrated white suburbia and suddenly addiction is an epidemic that must be addressed. Now white America is prepared to spend all kinds of money because it’s a problem that has infected their youth, urban drugs in mainstream Suburbia America. That’s privilege and racism whether you are willing to admit it or not and like it or not, if it took these circumstances for you to consider addiction a disease which knows no race, class, or environment, you may be a racist.…..

 

 

You’re a racist
Too busy bitching and moaning jawboning and groaning
Screaming so loud that your hatred showing
Your face is all glowing your bullshit is flowing
As you seethe in self pity your racism keeps growing
Believe it or not you continue Jim Crowing
You be exploding and disowning cause you need more melatonin
But shit man that’s whack
You can’t be more black
Sport lash tattoos on your back while smoking your crack
Pretending you’re stacked and hip hop ain’t just black
You don’t know Jack
Time to admit
Who da cap fit let them wear it
You’re a Racist shit
Being politically correct isn’t a solution
You ain’t some old white man exclusive
Verbally abusive full of mental pollution
Read your constitution the retribution and the revolution
Is causing confusion
You’re an unusual delusional on a stay of execution
Aughta be in seclusion
Just an obtrusive nuisance whose abusive excuse is to hate your brother
And become a recluse
Think you got game but you ain’t nothing but shame
Flickering flame looking for someone to blame
Hating on your brother just shows that you’re lame

 

 

 

We traded their blood for free white economics
With atomic vomit poking fun in Ebonics
Time to end the onyx vitrionics
And add to harmonics
Have you even listened
To songs of freedom
Ever really heard the pains
The chains and unheard claims
Of our brothers all bleeding
Pleading and seething in shackles of grieving
Or are you blinded by your heritage
Sipping on your favorite beverage
Using law as your leverage
Is it the garments they wear
Or the skin beneath the thread
That makes you fear and dread
Their lives have been fleeting
Whipped just for reading
They’ve been bleeding and pleading
Too many hearts stopped beating
This shit should end today
I hope the fucking KKK
Simply burns away
Charred by the flames on the crosses
Of the hatred they made
That shit leaves me perplexed
So what’s next?
We need to bear of the scars of the rope burns across their necks
Yes I’m pissed amidst this unforgiving hateful mist
You can continue to say racism doesn’t exist
But if you really believe that…..
Take me off your hypocritical CHRISTmas list

Peace out my brothers and sisters, Live and Love in Peace

Mourning dew

 

In the lonely shadows
When morning is still dark
Nature cries
Into blades of grass
Morning dew or Mourning dew
They’re still tears
Natures sorrows
Crying through the ground
Wafting upwards
From the graves of the gone
The tombs of the gallery
Soulless bodies
I know quite a few
Some from natures equalizer
Illness and disease
Some from natures randomness
It’s wheel of misfortune
Accidents
Murders
Wrong place, wrong time
Some from natures irony
Suicide
Self destruction
Drugs
To numb the pain of leaving the womb
Facing the cold cruel world
Yea, I know a few…..

 

In a therapeutic session I got the impression that depression was the cause of my dejection
No emergency that I could see but an urgency for my emerging need to escape reality
I got no prescription just a transcription of my transition so I got a subscription to scratch an itch and
Standard transmission for a bitchin’ ride with my magician whose mission was to alter my cognition
What I mean is I got high
Splattered my brain across the sky
I know its not the way
But it made depression fade away
So I did it everyday
Until I couldn’t get away
But misery loves to have company
So I took my best friend Bump with me
The product of such ridicule
Starting back in middle school where asshole kids can act so cruel
Where they forget the Golden Rule
Together we headed into obstruction
Strolling side by side toward our destruction
Seduced by sexy opium seduction
Believe me son
When poppy makes it’s Jones abduction its gonna suck son
You end up shit outta luck son
When it comes flying you better duck son because its the suction of deconstruction
One better know better
What I’m trying to say is I snuck out but he stayed stuck Mon
Sticking himself and tricking himself all the time he was inflicting himself
And addicting himself with the powdered ball and chain
Took away the pain
Faking out the rain
Telling everyone he was cool
Making us seem loke fools for making him look cruel
But he could win it
I turned my head for just one minute
Never realized how deep Bump was in it
He never made a sound
Though I totally related he was so goddam sedated he thought he was elated but to this date he remains underground
Thrilled with pills knowing speed kills but drugs were the only true solace he ever found above ground
I never heard his heart pound
Paid no attention to his pleas
Help me please
I turned away like he was a disease
No one listened
No one cared enough
They laughed it up and
No one helped
Not even me, his best friend
An onus I will carry until my end
The day I betrayed a friend
Now this may sound hypocritical and I don’t wanna get too analytical
But its oh so typical when people ridicule the individual
Waving ones own banner is almost Biblical
This may be cynical but I was his umbilical
Because no one else understood he was atypical
Another wandering child in a world apocalyptical
Just wanted to be who he was
But they laughed from a distance and broke his will
Pointed their fingers to get their fill
Pshhhtt, Y’all called him ill
Now who’s the hypocrite?
Now who’s counterfeit?
Wish I could reciprocate but here’s a promise much too late
His tears rise as my tears fall
When we meet in the early dampness of death
Walking barefoot in the grass
I step upon the mourning dew
I think of him the man I knew
The brother I loved despite your view
His days were far too few
And if one of you fuckers ever laugh at him again…..
I’ll walk your ass out in the mourning dew
That’s it…..I’m through

 

 

Overdose

 

Not all wars are fought on battlefields but every war is real and deadly. This is in memory of a special friend, all others lost and those left to carry on. It should also serve as a warning to the young one out there that the lasting consequences far outweigh the temporary highs…..Peace

Trapped inside a life of ruin
Where I became a slave
The needle and the spoon
And the highs I always crave
I was already dead
Before the dope went to my veins
Easing pains with acid rains
All alone on the mainline
Far before my life’s prime
I OD’ed my body’s dead
Wish I’d chosen love instead
My lover cried baby come inside
But I hit the streets to find a high
She offered me a lovers charms
But it wasn’t her stuck in my arms
Now my dim lit room
Has become my tomb
Left this world too soon
Now I’m dead

But I died right at the start
First time I took the needle
Pointed it at my heart
I died a million times
Death by China white
Powder in my blood
Darkness in my nights
Cotton wad and spoon
The glow of flickering candlelight
Figured only way to cope
Was to cop a bag of dope
Skag instead of food
A crust of bread and such
Couldn’t get enough
Until I got too much
Now I’m dead
And I can’t go back
Overdose
A nice way of saying suicide

Lost Souls

lost-soul

 

 

In memory of a special friend who saw the needle, and all those who survived the damage done. This is a POV piece written from the perspective of people I know and people I’ve known. Addiction is too often viewed as a habit acquired from weak willed people who are low life’s but few addicts set out to get strung out. There are many types of addictions but one of the meanest and hardest to break is heroin.
(In Stream Of Consciousness beat/street rhyme)
I sold my soul
In a dark back alley
Somewhere over there
The city of despair
Where running water
Remains constant
As the despondent
Hiding in dark corners
Amongst the unwanted
Individual and habitual
Cat and mouse ritual
Looking for release
From a world of strife
A way to erase
An unforgiving life
We just want peace
How I wish this shit would cease
Now everyday I need my fix
Started out just for kicks
Basement window transactions
3AM without distractions
We thought we were Kings of the night
But we were just kids on the run
Looking for fun until we got strung
And now we just can’t seem to get right
Enslaved to the world of dope
Trying to understand the dream
Of promise minus the hope
I was a glassine dope fiend hooked on powder self esteem
Popping tons of Benzedrine smoking and toking green weed
Ripping off a limousine hiding from the blue machine
Be quarantined and unredeemed if I don’t get my doped blood clean
Needed someone to intervene so please find that dopamine
Help me flee this fucking scene
Someone please
Save me from myself
I’m a ghost
A blank eyed phantom
Stagnant and abandoned
Searching for good times
Coping dimes
Scoring bundles
Committing crimes
Shootout in the jungle
It’s a asphalt rumble
This concrete struggle
Galleries full of users nodding
Where rigs boot blood
Poking and prodding
Trying to help me hide myself
Make me into someone else
For at least a few blissful hours

Dirty needles carbon spoon candle wax is melting soon
Arm tied off, red balloon mainline skag, shoot the moon
Milking blood in my harpoon hoping to remain immune
caught in a poppy typhoon getting sick but fixing soon
Someone better hear my tune before I drown in the black lagoon
Or am I doomed
How did I get here? Am I repulsive or simply compulsive?
It started recreational galloping the horse inspirational
Then authority became confrontational
Yet it seemed educational…. Sensational
Shooting the avenue recreational Lower Eastside invitational
Where drugs are inescapable and school was plain incapable
Of teaching even vocational or being motivational
Its reprehensible indefensible and dispensable
Yet there I was insensible
China White incomprehensible
It isn’t easy to break free
The entire culture had a hold on me
The vice no longer remains
Rid myself of the chains
Stopped the pains
Of hating the person I’d become
Desperate and always glum
What ever happened to
That boy in grade school
Who got along well with others
Loved by neighborhood mothers
Followed instruction
Why the destruction
Why the seduction
I was a well behaved child
What set me so wild?
Why was it me who survived
Why am I alive
But Randy took the dive
Why did he get the shot
That ripped through his veins
And stopped his heart
Life’s no fucking fair
Until you care
Live and Love in Peace

Powdered therapy

powder

 

Blankly she gazed my way

Eyes two hundred years old

Ancient and weathered

Hollow but hopeful

Just one more shot

We’ll kick tomorrow

This time we promised

Again

But we knew the truth

Because every day we wake up

Its just the same as every yesterday

A purposeless life stuck on repeat

Walking in endless circles

We know exactly what we will do

Even sex has become mundane

Stuck in our own tracks

 

 

A numbing life of monotony

Overloaded with mediocrity

Every fucking day seems the same to me

The two of us in powder therapy

And we just sit back and let it all be

Wondering aloud when we gonna OD

 

 

Still we hide behind our solution

Our addiction merely our masks

To escape detection from the world

So all the hurt each day possesses

Can remain locked away until dark

Until the latch of aguish comes undone

Again

The familiar routine comes around

But the hurt never stays forever

It fades and disappears in therapy

Frantically we seek our appointment

Whatever it takes to get through

Spears poised to  pierce our skin

Fill our veins with delirium soaked blood

Leaving evidence of their constant visits

Deeply etched in little red lines we hide

Soul tattoos that we wear on our arms

The tracks of our tears

 

 

A numbing life of monotony

Overloaded with mediocrity

Every fucking day seems the same to me

The two of us high on powder therapy

And we just sit back and let it all be

Wondering aloud

Who’ll be the first to OD

 

In a dingy room sit’s a candle flickering discreet

Two lonely lives stagnate between flesh and dust

A spoonful of sugar helps the pony downtown

To be buried side by side with our long lost lust

 

Wrapped in each others arms we nod through the night

And promise that tomorrow we’ll get ourselves right

Again

 

 

The roadmap to addition is full of pathways and routes but how and why one got there matters not to anyone who’s addicted. Sometimes its just for kix but far more often its for therapy. Therapy through drugs first blocks the physical pain sensors but you soon learn it also blocks the emotional pain sensors. Self hatred, guilt, emotional emptiness are a few fast highway lanes to addition because this therapy makes all those pains disappear. Perhaps only for a few hours but sometimes even a few hours of relief can seem like a life-line.Just about everyone knows of someone who has died from addiction. Addicts can be very convincing, even to themselves. Don’t enable and don’t give up on them. If someone you care about heads down that road you need to be strong, stronger than you think possible. Love, compassion and consistency are what they may need most.

Live and Love in Peace

 

 

Glassine Rabbits Hole

glassine hole

 

 

 

Life in his hands

World at his feet

Opened his arms

To greet his defeat

Gave up his life

Paid with his soul

Following rabbits

Down the glassine hole

 

 

 

Chasing the Black Tar Dragon

Down the glassine habit hole

The world below

Invites you down

Spins you around the gallows pole

 

His gimmicks are here in his pocket

In his fingers lie a loaded dart

Powdered advice

Cotton device

Mixture coursing straight to his heart

Thoughts dissolve

Life devolves

Its dark and vacant of soul

Same old tune

Needle and spoon

Down the glassine rabbit hole

 

Hallucinations seem lucid and real

Life without turmoil has an appeal

But better beware

Life is not fair

The hole will cost you your lust and your zeal

My friend lost his way

What price he to pay

One last shot for as his final meal

 

Deep into the hole he fell

Compass was not working well

Incoherent alignment

Solitary confinement

Until the needle pointed to hell

 

Despite what many feel addiction is not always a choice, too often it’s an escape from torment and hopelessness. Compassion is the best cure. Peace….

 

 

Belushi Ball

bell

Belushi ball such a dangerous game
To play it seems so intense
John said it felt like kissing god
And that makes perfect sense

One brings you up, one takes you down
The mixture is off the chain
The ultimate rush before the ultimate zone
And brother you feel no pain

But its also the way his movie ended
Eyes shut in a speeding hotel
Spinning round on a powdered horse
A life knocked off the carousel

Getting there seems safe and fun
It can seem like such a blast
Once your there you head downhill
The top becomes the bottom fast

Then its really not a happy game
If you’ve never played don’t start
When you mess with powder drugs
It’ll eventually stop your heart

When drugs take hold of someone’s life there are many more casualties than just the user, the family and friends suffer intense consequences as well. If you are or know someone who is addicted get educated about addictions, don’t give up give love. The addicts problems are often very deep an not easy to deal with, but every life is worth an effort. Peace

She Said, I Know What Its Like To Be Dead, (J. Lennon)

sammy

There and back
J.T. Hilltop

Of all the people to hear about God and life after death Samuel Brooks was not the most likely conveyor of truth. Sam wasn’t an especially religious man, went to church on Easter and Christmas, did good deeds, but never really prayed or sang hymns or anything like that. What made Sam’s story worth hearing was the fact, or at least the fact as he tells it, that he literally died and came back to life. Then again, he does claim his death and return was the result of a heroin overdose so it should be taken with a grain of salt. Perhaps some tequila and lime as well since his story was being told to me at Driftwood Pub in Cow Harbor New York. But to the best of my questionable recollection here’s what transpired.
It should be said first an foremost that Cow Harbor was the Mayberry of the Northeast, a tiny little beach town full of clammers, fisherman, and escapees from the metro Manhattan madness. Anytown USA, it was a beach oriented community on Long Islands northern coastline. From the boredom of the chowder many of us suburban misfits turned to drugs to take us away from a mundane life in a small community. In our day marijuana was a must have while the slightly more hardcore of us experimented with hallucinogens, diet pills, and Quaaludes. The really hardcore bored rural drones dabbled in snorting cocaine and heroin. It freed us of the mediocre and transported us to a level of suburban legend the likes of James Dean in Hollywood. Of course once one dabbles in something as powerful as coke and dope you become a mere half step away from the stereotype portrayed in public service anti-drug movies the schools force feed the huddled masses of suburban youth. The true legends emerged as the rebellious main-liners who inject the poisonous powders directly into their veins. Sam was one of those rebel legends.
I was back in town after leaving some eight years ago to visit the grave of my beloved deceased Mom. While in my old hometown I always stop off at The Driftwood as it’s one of the more comforting hang outs from my metaphoric stomping grounds. A place where the jukebox now played fond memories and the pool table stored folklore of all nigh revelry. Just walking through the door of Driftwoods imparted the warmth of a treasured and magical time. The comfort of a mug of beer transported me even further to an easier if not so innocent time. To make the trip even more appreciable who is sitting at a table in the corner but my old schoolmate Sammy Brooks, one of the once revered icons of a town as defined by drug use. Sammy was known for his numerous battles with addictions and stories of suburban legend most of us were glad we avoided retrospectively, but misguidedly glamorized in the days of our asinine self absorbed down with the system youth. Sam was a heroin addict turned methadone reliant ex user who if had no major contributions to society at least held down a job. Truth be told the stigma of addiction aside he was a really nice guy who just got caught up in his attempt to be the coolest of the cool but instead ended up selling his soul for some temporary recognition. I knew him since kindergarten, and while not best friends we were never enemies, not even for a petty moment.
“Yo Sammy my man, how the fuck ya dewin? Must be like seven years at least brother.” Sam looked up from his drink staring at me puzzled, “JT? That you JT? Hey you look good Bro, still got your pony tail, eh? Glad to see that, too many short hairs around these days. Jeeze shit man what brings you back to this hellhole of a town?” I was honestly surprised he remembered me let alone that I had left town some time ago. I grabbed a beer, sat down and we began to catch up. We had a great time reminiscing the old days but once we got around to the reason for my visit Sam got weirded out. “JT, I know death is hard when its your Mom and shit, but I’ve been there, and there are things about dying you don’t want to know.” He couldn’t have been more wrong, I’m a sponge for information as it relates to the mysterious unknown. There was no way I wasn’t going to ask him what he meant. “Whadda ya mean Sammy? What do you know about death man?” After some prodding Sam relented. “I died from an overdose in the city but for some reason I came back.” Afraid he was gonna go off on some God reached his hand out and took me back story I attempted to change the subject until he asked me if I wanted to hear about what its like to be dead. Of course I did.
“Buy me a club soda Bro, I’ll tell you the whole deal but don’t get mad when I tell you there ain’t no god just a big nothing after you die. I know everyone wants to believe in bright lights, hugs, getting back together with gone family members and shit that’s pure bullshit man, its nothing like that.” I walked up to the bar to get us each a drink. Always one to play the devils advocate this particular time I was in unfamiliar territory lobbying on the side of religion but just to stir it up I asked, “How do you know it wasn’t like God or some angel or something that came an brought you back?” Sam got this real serious look on his face, “Look man, you can believe whatever you want, but if god or the angels or whatever wanted me to live why would they have let me get so strung out on drugs in the first place. Listen to how it went down and judge for yourself man but for me I’m sure there ain’t no super power saving people and shit. Don’t be counting on no help from above because there just ain’t nothing there. You’re on your own Bro.” It wasn’t anger registered on his face but contemplative reality as he launched into his tale.
“I was on the lower east side looking to cop some dope and coke. I was into speed balls back then dude, you know mixing dope with coke in the same shot. The best dope on the streets was Mr. T. which I’d been doing all week. Really good shit man, one bag was enough but two bags sent you out of fucking town. There was some killer coke a few blocks away called double D and I heard it was perfect for balling. I had me some extra cash so I got a bundle (ten bags) of Mr. T then went over to cop some double D. I got four bags and headed out to my little studio apartment to do a few speedballs. I near about ran home with the shit so I could get off good an quick like. It was a really bad time for me Bro, Stella left me, I was gonna get fired soon because I was fucking up a lot, life just totally sucked, ya know? I needed to escape so I take out my spoon, empty three bags of Mr. T into it and add a few drops of water. I cooked that mother fucker up then added a bag and a half of double D, sucked that shit through the cotton ball up into my syringe. I tapped the fucker making sure it was ready to take me away. No prob finding a vein man, I’m a pro at hitting veins.” He rolled up his sleeve to show me the red track marks on his arm as if it were some kind of red badge of courage and not the scratched silhouette of a life once struggling in turmoil. We both took big sips of our drinks as he continued, “I stuck that spike right into my arm and drew back. I see a small patch of blood so I know I got a good hit on the vein so I start booting ya know, hitting slow back an forth a few times then BAM! The whole shot right in to my blood system. I could feel the “C” running up my arm right towards my head when hit me in like two seconds Bro. Like the shit flew right up into my brain and started filling it up with fizzy blood or something then a nice even buzzing settled in between my ears. I was flying bro, like on top of the world flying. It was so awesome it forced a huge smile to creep across my face. I was thinking man this is the fucking best thing in the world for like fifteen seconds, every part of my body buzzing easy before the god damn “H” kicks in. First this warm feeling creeps up my backbone, across my shoulders then into my head, like a warm puddle of happiness soothing as all hell man. My entire being was vibrating nice and smooth and then wham! I sprung up of the bed flying backward and passed out with the needle still in my arm. Next I feel nothing. I mean like fucking nothing bro, like sleeping sound like without any dreaming. I musta hit my head on the wall of something because like I said I was feeling nothing ya know, like I didn’t exist no more. No bright light calling me, no fucking angel singing to me, not even a dream or anything. I wake up like four hours later with this like dried out puke all over my mouth, down my cheek and some big puddle of puke on the bed. I got this slamming mother fucking headache man, like none I never had before. I mean I hear people say they had a splitting headache before man but I swear to god this really felt like it was splitting my brain into pieces. So my head is like throbbing hard, painful as hell but I’m still like groggy, ya know disoriented and shit. Took me five minutes to remember where I was and what I was doing. Something happened to my neck and I can’t hardly move like my shoulders are sprained or something. I look down on the floor see the needle laying there all innocent like. Musta flown outta my arm or whatever cause the rest of the baggies of dope and coke are on the floor too. That’s when it really hit me man, I died and come back for whatever reason. The hit on my head musta made me puke and if I didn’t toss my cookies I woulda been done for bro, I wouldn’t be here telling ya this, Ida been another New York City police blotter statistic. Couldn’t move, just laid in bed for hours thinking about how I just died and come back. Being dead just feels like nothing at all. No lights, no meeting the maker, no life flashing before my eyes, just empty. That’s when I realize there ain’t nothing at all after death man, its just the end, total dark and void. Knowing I lucked out I swore I would stop using, maybe go to NA, ya know, Narcotics Anonymous to help get straight. No more poison in my blood ,man.”
I took in the story and considered how easily this could have been my story. I looked him in the face, “You clean now Buddy, you completely straight?” Sammy peered up from his dark memory, “Oh I’m dosing legally on methadone but as far as street drugs I’m clean. I had to do it on my own cause like NA relies on praising god and shit, and now I know there ain’t no god. Counselor sent me over to another group of former addicts that don’t believe either. We lean on each other and do just like the other Anonymous groups but no meetings with all the thanking and praising shit. Been straight for almost two years now.”
We finished chatting and reminiscing not brining up the addiction again. We had a great judgment free reunion complete with one more beer for me and a game of pool for old times. Neither of us were anywhere near as good as we were in years gone by or maybe we weren’t ever as good as we thought back in the day but either way we had a great time.
One thing Sam said really resonated and if anything that’s what I’d want you to take away from this tale of addiction. There are many reasons people end up addicted to substances and judging them isn’t productive. It doesn’t matter how or why someone goes down that road, that road becomes very dark very fast and its nearly impossible to find your way back without some really good people to shine the flashlight ahead of you instead of in your eyes to make you confess. Sam’s parents gave up on him because they didn’t know what to do but his brother never gave up and neither did his good friends. So between them and the other warriors of addiction he has a good support system which enables him to stay clean. As far as god existing I reckon that’s a personal decision and frankly I really don’t care what your belief is because your believing or not believing has nothing to do with how I perceive you as a person. Like Dr. King once said judge a person by the content of his character, and let me tell you Sam is one helluva character. A real good character……Peace

In My Arms

once

Once I held you in my arms

You gave me such a rush

Filled with blood of happiness

With just one simple push

Once I held you in my arms

And let you come inside

Hope replaced my agony

Made misery subside

Then you held me much too tight

Imprisoned my every thought

Made me see you every day

The heartaches that you brought

How you got under my skin

Clutched tightly to my heart

Threatened you would never leave

Swore You’d never part

Then I broke free of the strangling grasp

Discarded all your charms

But memories here are scratched in red

From when I held you in my arms

I know for some of you it’s hard to understand why, but if you can imagine pains so totally encompassing someone feels compelled to sell a piece of their life for a modicum of relief you may begin to understand why many people turn to addiction in an attempt to validate their existence. Please don’t condemn them, too many close to me have lost to their addictions, and every last one of them was a beautiful but tortured soul. To all those who are falling, those who fell ,and for the few who have defeated addiction I dedicate this to you. PEACE