What's life like as an addict?

Write from your heart <3 ...
I just want to know the daily issues
people go through as an addict.
I am experienced with drug topics . . .
I am an addict myself.
I would really love to see what others have to say!!!
Thanks :)

The upper hand

what a man he was.
you wouldn't know it at first sight,
or the second,
but maybe the third—

in between his half-dozen
sandwiches a day
and his chain-smoking
(always gonna quit just as soon
as the cartons in his closet ran dry)
you begin to see a man...

always smiling the screw-loose grin
of a cleaned-up ex-junkie
who can't barely remember his own address,
obsolete with the childlike mental capacity
that two decades of hard drugs left him,
wandering idly from one warehouse bay to the next,
loving life and letting you know it.
(calling work fun, because if he's
not having fun, why bother?)

but I guess after twenty years
of heroin hits, acid stamps and angel dust
collecting prison time, tattoos and diseases
and then going straight sober
of his own accord
for twenty-two years,
he has a right to be happy

they treated him rough.
foreman hounding him
when he didn't complete the few duties
that were entrusted him
and grown men baiting him
like guffawing schoolyard boys.
but you can't blame them...
men can't read souls,
just histories

and they told me to watch out for him,
but in a place where you're treated
exactly as well as you know your job
he treated a know-nothing college kid
pretty damn fine

so I can rest easy,
because he had plenty of demons
but he fought them all daily
the last twenty-two years—
and now he's got a halo
and two big-ass wings
and a sword to fight them.
with a mad cackle,
that euphoric glint in his eyes
and a "c'mere you dirty bastards!"
Joe finally has the upper hand.


Rest in peace Joe - 2/28/11

A better way ?
I spent years on drugs, long past adolescence  
but I refuse to spend my life, stuck in convalescence
out here in the country, I think that I’m fine
I drink a lil beer, might sniff a lil line
I know deep inside, this disease will progress
wont be long before I'm back in Pittsburgh, banging dope like the rest
I do ok when im out here all alone
but going back to da burgh, its like a fucking war zone
so much temptation, more then one can resist
going there im fucked, like getting rammed in the ass with a fist
methadone & suboxone are only false hope
I thought I was better cause I had a doctors note
they will say its a way out and comfort your fears
little do they tell you,  you will be trapped for years
your only making docs wallet thicker
versus coping off some shady ass nigga
just hope that welfare insurance don’t run out
cause prowling the street for subs is what your whole day will be about
these little pills will even fuck with your head
the withdrawal will make you wish you were dead
it will make heroin detox feel like a mere cold
prolonged use weakens muscles, your bones and will make you feel old
3 months off opiates, still malnourished and under weight
I eat and eat and try to lift weights
sitting in this apartment all alone, no cable tv
watching the same mother fucking 3 dvds
I need something to pass the time
help keep this bull shit off of my mind
fuck meetings, there just a joke
don’t care if im homeless, beat down & broke
many hypocrites, inside those walls
so quick to point out all of your flaws
they preach and preach how great is their life
no longer go home drunk and beat on their wife
now they sip coffee and bitch about there job
and how there new wife is a fucking slob
if I have to hear this shit in order to stay clean
id rather spend my life a fucking dope fiend
I know there has to be a better way
to keep all of my demons at bay
I prey to a god for whom I lost believe
so of course, I get no relief
only prey when I’m fucked..lord get me threw this
prayers might as well be coming from Judas
I’ll say it again, there has to be a better way
all I can do is take it day by day
I prow the internet for information on addiction
seems like I know more about this damn affliction
so called experts don’t know shit
I swear they intend to keep us all sick
traditional rehabs don’t work, with there 4% success rate
there fishing for dollars, with heroin as bait
its all about money, as with anything in life
getting rich on ones misery and painf strife
its all one big racket, like alcohol & Capone
only difference is its legal, guess no option but to go it alone
I'm open to suggestion, a new point of view
there has to be a better way,  a new path to pursue
fuck this poem, I've run out of words
hied this warning, or be like cattle and follow the herds

Life as an addict was bad enough.Life as a recovering addict is harder i'd say,for myself anyways. My daily life would be getting myself out of the pit.Usually the only time i got up early was if i knew i had money or could get it.If there wasn't the panic would set in which would psycholigically trigger the i'm starting to feel ill. Iwasn't ,but i told myself i was and didn't take notice of anything or anyones advice.THE MORE I GOT THE MORE I WANTED and there was nothing stepping in my way,ever.Ieven had methadone to help. great help that was.Just gave a second habit.It helped me get sorted ,i could go out now and get gear without feeling shit.No more legging it back to the toilet or trying not to let people see you vomitting in the street.Once i was on a full blown no one could even go near me.If they tried they where making a huge mistake.All as they where doing was pissing you off,just talking crapand thats the way it was.The worse was everyone you know who's straight so called looked at you like some disease,stay clear he'll rob your eyes ,your house,everything given the chance.Nobody understands what you feel.The shame,remorseand the hurt you put your closest in.Iused to think i only hurt myself but it wasn't only about me. iIdragged everyone else down with me. Those closest got hurt the most.No money to pay bills,not enough food for the week and about 15 Debt collectors at our throats.Anyway,now i get up one day at a time hoping i'm not going to use again.I try to stay away from the influences who are there to pull me back in. Try to rebuild my life all over again and feel good about myself.Not been there for 50 days now.Its hard but doable.

Just Smoke

The baby’s crying
She is hungry
There’s no food
To fill her hungry tummy
Nor milk to soothe her thirst
There  is nothing
For her

Daddy’s gone
From this world
Mommy’s crying
She doesn’t know how
to keep on living
cos there is nothing
in the house

She wants her smoke
She wants her grass
She needs her angel dusts
She wants her black beauty
She needs to fly
And touch the sky
Psychedelic high

She wants molly
To touch ecstasy
Swallow rainbows
She needs to flip
Fly with the butterfly
Soar like an eagle
She wants it all

She cries for daddy
Laying at the drugstore
A gun in his hand
So painful no gain
But gain he did with pain
Robbing to get dough
For his lady’s pleasure

Baby’s gone
She quietly went home
To heavens above
Mommy closed her needs
With her fluffy pillow
Mommy’s tripping
The sky tonight.

It's doing what you wish you dont do
Spending what you wish you could save
Ending in stuations you know you can avoid
Finding happiness in what makes you sad
Fighting the thought that you're slave
And blindly loving that which's taking you to the grave

forever untold
Lying in bed in a pool of his own sweat, cant stand the smell, haven’t moved for over an hour
but right now the farthest thing from his mind is to get a fucking shower
been dope sick all day, gut is wrenching, muscles aching
they say most of it is in your head, but this pain theres no faking
How to get money ? burned every bridge, every friend
things he's done there’s no way he can ever mend
he wants go to rehab, but the waiting list is so long
he is sick of this life, but with heroin its hard to be strong
he has two beautiful children whom he loves very much, he was a good father once
the pain and the shame is far to much, he hasnt even thought about them in months  
cant believe mom hasn’t kicked him out
she does threaten to, scream & shout
she has aged so much from the shit he put her through
last winter he overdosed she found him cold and blue
he'd be dead if she didn’t come home just then
sometimes he wishes she'd left him there and this nightmare would just end
she cries herself to sleep each night, thinking about her son
who’s now just an evil, deceitful, junkie fucking scum
the good son, high school honors, a time so long ago
is name is not important, so we shall call him john doe
she sleeps with her purse hidden from her kin
sadly tonight he's out rob her again
doesn’t take him long to locate her wallet
definitely fucked up, whatever you wanna call it
$ 24 dollars was it, two fives and fourteen ones was all he could get
its barely enough to get him “off sick”
it will have 2 do, out the door like a flash
calls his dealer “G” to say “I need 4” cause I finally got some cash
he said met me at the spot, hurry cause im close
wont be more then 5 min, the shady dealer boast
beads of sweat rolled down the back of his neck despite the bitter cold wind
another product of dope sickness, he could not stop the quivering of his chin
is it the cold, is it the impatience; probably both
without a doubt this endless waiting game is what any junkie hates most  
25 minutes passed before johnny called him back
im standing in the cold, where the fuck are you at ?
Chill mutha fucka I’ll be there pretty fast
his suv came into view after another 30 minutes past
his rims still spinning as he slowed to a stop
G glanced back to make sure the oncoming car was no cop
john doe violontly shaking hands pass him the fives rolled atop the stack of ones
he wanted it to appear as though he had sufficient funds
better not be short again this time, best be $40 in your hand
he passes him a small bundle, secured tightly with a rubber band
before G had a chance to add up all the cash
johnny boy bolted threw a yard, hauling fuckin ass
amazingly he explodes with a quick burst of adreniline
its pshycological, just knowing he pocesses his savior, his "bad medicine"
he finds an abandoned house with the door left ajar
again every muscle burns, glad he didnt have to go very far
he finds a spot near a window on the second floor, so the street lamp cast a little light
from his pocket he retrieves the tools of his trade, the weapons of his plight
a syringe, a spoon and water filled in an empty 20oz bottle of pop
he stares at 4 glassine envelopes with the name “hot shot” stamped across the top
many people overdosed recently from this particular stamp bag in the hood
suddenly hes like a kid at Christmas, this means there really good !
One by one he dumps them in the spoon
anticipation for the high he will be feeling very soon
he adds some water to make a iced tea colored devils brew
he has no belt so resorts to take the lace out his shoe
finally cotton from the butt of this menthol cigarette
its used as a filter cause if the needle clogs, he is fucked, u can bet
tying off his track marks become noticeably 3 dimensional
deep and dark from years of drug abuse, normal folk would deem unconventional
as he pulls back surprisingly the rig fills with blood, a sign he is in the vein
usually he has to fish around to find one that hasn’t collapsed, like a snowman in the rain
a grin draws wide as he plunches the liquid poison deep in his arm without a care
all his muscles tighten at once as a tremendous warmth took over despite the bitter cold air
as he slumped into the corner he felt as if he was melting into the wall and wanted to shout
deeper and deeper he began to fall out
tunnel vision began to take hold
he stared silently out the window into the cold
the pulsating street light growing dimmer, as his sight was engulfed by darkness... forever darkness behold
the story of the man he COULD have been...
forever untold

             [b]Incantation of the dammed[/b]


  we are the quiet people,lost in a vast maze of fire

          hunger is the least of our problems
 
        pain greater than you can ever conjure

                  possesses  us.
 
        hunted by the righteous and ignorant

           we toil endlessly for refuge

        haunted by the nightmares of reality

                 we stay numb
 
    gone are gratitude and niceties into the abbyss  
 
       our people shout out loud for the reaper
 
       death throws forth her loving arms

            no one will miss us

Pass


Black slope silhouette
of bare winter hill
dusk-punctuated
with a single bright star
layered in azure
that fades to fuchsia.
One cloud under-sided by sunset
is near dark on the nearside, backlit.
A lone light on that hill
means no score or men
or money here.
We must push through
or turn back south
as she's still sick,
but I'm a month now clean.
Her uneasy head
heavy on my arm
rouses, eventually speaks
and asks the name of this town.


I eat the sandwich
parked not far off the road.
She cooks the last forty
and ties-off for the new darkness.
I cap her needle and fold the kit
as she slips into a long night
where I must endure
to carry us to somewhere new.
The sky's reds go indigo then black.
She nods again
before we've even gone a mile.
Lives half-destroyed
we travel into each other's debt.

Like A Bomb  


Would you  take a chance
to mentally enhance  
laugh with a neighbour
tasty food has no flavour
weak legs take a stance
and suddenly whats hated
becomes what you favour.

Put up a hand
and give five
all thoughts once bland
come alive .

It only works
with the real you
the lows become perks
your nose it does hurt
yellow is new
from the dead blue .
everything's  gleaming
inventing new feelings
put aside people
are now so appealing
you walk the walls
and over the ceilings
all small is tall
and with a big meaning  
the more you fall
the less you feel it
louder they call
but you cannot hear it

Not all is what it seems
imagine your world
without any seams
all you hoped for  
gone in forever
your warm is now
the coldest of weather  .
there is no doubt
you've taken this too far
the black is about
to take out the stars .

All charities have nothing
left to give
and you feel you no longer
want to live.
down goes the solar flare
up rises the lunar glare
no more nice surprises
in a life you made unfair .

"Auto-Correct"

Sizzle, sizzle, cracking up.
Glaring down that fucking blade.
Gripping so damn tight that the pipe cracks.
Gulping so much vodka I drown, drown.
Stumble, laugh, fall down, talk on the phone, bathe in blood.
Get to bed. Pass out.
Wake up cold and hot.
Fuck the choking feeling in my throat,
rip the blade from under the drawer,
slice and pour vodka in the wounds--blowing smoke to heal it up.
Tear out my hair so my scalp falls off,
blood pouring down my fat face,
sweat streaking under flaps and bones.
Tension so much I have to scream,
breathing is so hyper like a vent,
heart racing.
Smoke.
Drink.
Cut.
I only have to do one,
and I'm fine.

How far will you go to get your drug?
Do you use to make up for lost moments and love?
Detox, get sober, then relapse again
all for one plunge of heroin.

How much of this life do you want to live?
Don't you see all you've lost and what you must give?
Up to the high, then crash back down
if you don't do it soon withdrawal will surround.

How does it feel to be so criticized?
Do you abuse to be tranced or just hypnotized?
Away from the world where you can be free
where all of your pain cannot be seen.

How does it feel to rely on something illegal?
Do you not see these weapons are lethal?
One snort too much, one shot too deep
and you may never wake from your sleep.

How does it feel to feel so alone?
Do you wake up one morning to find your addiction has grown?
Into your mind, thoughts, and more
your new favorite place is the pharmacy store.

How did you start on this terrible thing?
Did you first use as a dare, for fun, or hazing?
All you want is to get high,
on substance abuse you shouldn't rely.

How would it feel if one day you were free?
Would you even be able to stay clean?
It's hard to go right when you just know the wrong way
but you could be the ex addict who's life starts today.

Life with an addict
-As a child-
Life with an addict will mentally fuck u over
Physically leaving you starving
It’ll have you wondering what you did to deserve this shit
You’ll steal and kill just to get something to eat
And don’t you dare expect somebody to help you
Cause half of the family’s on crack
The other half acting like they ont know jack
You’re by yourself in this world force to raise your self
You grow up much too quickly
Never knowing what it was like to act young
Cause will the other kids were out playing on the playground
You’re in the house giving mom her "medicine"
She tells you it makes her better, asks do you want mommy to get sick
So you help her as much as u can
But what the bitch forgot to mention is that there’s no money to help her habit
So instead she offers herself in exchange for drugs
But the dealer has something else on mind
He wants you, he wants to steal you innocence
Your mom doesn’t care as long as she gets her high
You scream and you scream at the top of your lungs for help
But does it ever come, no and this cycle happens again
But the finally your grown and able to move out on your on
You don’t what to do cause you have no cash
So you stay with that small hope that one day your mom will look at you and at least say
"I’m sorry"

I'm all alone
in a weekly motel,
in a not-real-nice
part of town.

I want to call someone
to keep me company.
But I don't have any service.
Or any friends.

I want a can of ginger ale
to sooth my squirmy stomach.
But I don't have any way to keep it down.
Or any money.

I want to change my clothes;
brush my teeth and my hair.
But I don't have any energy.
Or any coke.

I want to stifle my thoughts
with mindless TV.
But I don't have any cable.
Or any dope.

I want to eat the Baked Lays
at the bottom of my bag.
But I don't have any appetite.
Or any weed.

I want to fall asleep
But I don't have anything
to dream about.
Or any Ambien.

I want to be home.
By the fire with Mom.
But I don't have a ride.
Or the NA pins I promised.

You May Be Numb But I Am Not

You drink
till you pass out
 and I am left
  to peel the bottle
   from your hand  

You smoke weed
and your body
 is on chill

I take care
of everything
 while your  
  in another land

And really...
my sobriety  
 you don't  
  understand

You take pills
 like candy
  but in the end
   they are
    bitter sweet

You may  
not be able
 to see it
  but  
   you cant
    even function  
     properly

Your  
addictions
 are to
  numb  
   Your pain

But  

In
the
 end

The pain
 has been  
  passed to me