Addiction

 



oh, my metaphysical
dark-writing-space
I need to remember
to log-you-out

murdering the
lights
in browser-tabs

you live in my veins
sometimes as blood
and others as

disease

.

What a good friend;        
I always thought utopia never existed;        
what a lovely and blissful place;        
I’m glad that I’ve found you;        
my dear Juliette.        
        
Don’t fret baby, don’t fret.        
        
I lit my self on fire,        
yet I’m still freezing here.        
Martyrdom of my sheer dire,        
will to escape this fear.        
       
What would I do without you;        
a question I can not escape.        
What ever would I do without you;        
shear agony and despair would only be my fate.        
Don’t make this a day I wish I could undo.        
       
My dear Juliette;        
we used to run through the valleys,        
those shimmering pits;        
and you always let me toot        
my own bit.        
[We did our thing].        
        
This black abyss has kept me long enough,        
the monsters within take many forms;        
horrors beyond comprehension.        
Though I will walk this path, and attempt not to mourn,        
in hope one day that I may regain sensation;        
and face all obstacles, no matter how rough.        
        
It was just fate.        
We knew it would end like this.        
Though, I thought we could make it through;        
what a dark fantasy that, will always be.        
Soon this destiny will be sealed in this date.        
       
Now its time for us to withdraw dear;        
Our end has come.        
Never have I had so much fear.        
For this is our eternal rest;    
Our duality must go.        
Dear Juliette;        
Don’t fret;        
Baby don’t fret.      
 

 
even losers have to win sometime  
that's what they say anyway
 
I have had a run of bad luck  
that doesn't show any signs of breaking
how many times do you gamble on yourself to win
before you just go home pockets empty
 
an addict is an addict always
just ask the big book of old Bill W
he'll tell you
a dry addict is someone who isn't drugging
but exhibits all the same old behaviors
 
I'm getting too old to learn how to walk again
the ground is a lot farther to fall these days
and recovery after each fall takes longer  
 
I have plenty excuses for taking the easy way out today
with not enough reasons not to
I have a sixth sense though
that tells me I'm at a juncture on my life's journey
and what I decide now will either make me or break me
 
honestly, I'm afraid of the hard choices
and the honest answers
I've been living a double life
one as a homemaker
another as a full-time addict
 
my husband knows but we don't talk about it
he's in denial and as long as it doesn't cost him anything
he ignores it
 
see I get my drugs free by being a servant
as well as a gopher for the druggies that come out here
bring a guy a drink get rewarded with a ten dollar line
 
the only wrench in my plan is I love my husband
he doesn't want me catering to my stepson and his friends
he argues he does nothing for you
I want to scream he keeps me high
I'm a slave to the drug
and the people who provide it
 
I won't be giving sexual favors for this shit though
just in case you were wondering
though more than once I was offered drugs in exchange for sex
I still have my pride
and that sort of thing just insults me
 
there aren't many roads out of this place I've found  
in fact, there may only be one
the way out starts with me
they say a journey of a thousand steps begins with the first one
 
I know one thing I won't get where I'm going  
sitting on my ass crying that I can't do it
because one day I fear my choices will be fewer and fewer
and then taken away altogether
 
the roadside is littered with the broken souls of quitters
who gave up on themselves
before they even began their journey