Here I am

I saw you yesterday, across the street, 
wearing 'that look', I wave but you don't recognise me.

Fixed to the spot as I watch you do your thing,
I'm side swiped by the memory of that feeling.

Stomach and jaw clenched in preparation,
then that warmness starting from my groin
up through my heart, and neck, 
along the way leaving that taste on the back of my throat. 
Then oh my, that comforting release as the warmness flooded my brain.
Oh sweet, welcome oblivion.

Inevitably on occasion the last thing I saw was the floor rising to meet my face
no sense of falling
and thinking I knew my tolerance was clearly no guarantee of life.

Waking from these near death stupours, never grateful for life, 
such remiss  part and parcel of this  fixing existence, 
that really is not  a fix at all, 
oblivion is a temporary state that only papers over the cracks.

Then, one day, in a single moment that compressed ten years  of  the sheerest self loathing,
I bent that needle, smashed that barrel and its contents
and watched as purgatory flushed down the sink, 
only to  find I'd entered hell.

Oddly, hell has this small window if you care to notice and look through,
there you will see strength to be earned and found.
I toiled real hard  for it, and when brave enough to ask
others gave me some too.
And  so began my journey back up the hill with its bumps and slippery tracks and 
amazing views where the air tastes so sweet now in that place on the back of my throat.

and here I am,
and I look at you again 
you are me, back then.
can you see me now?
and I really want to ask if you would consider a trip to hell 
and back.

Reviews

[p.kuhl]

awesome! love your voice, please don't ever stop writing.

[victoria]

how kind of you to read and say so, thank you so much, I hope never to stop writing.

[James William Dyer]

I enjoyed the poem, especially for its content. I do not believe it is Hell for everyone, though that route of administration usually isn't pleasant for most and I have always chosen to avoid it. I knew you were discussing IV use when you mentioned the taste in the back of your throat. When I was young and had not learned to manage my addictions, I tried this route of administration several times, but it never lasted as long and left me inebriated and so I stuck to oral / insuflation. I like how you made this poem seem as a reflection, watching one across the street in a position you had once held. There are so many dimensions to every single aspect of our human condition, it is never the same for anyone.

[victoria]

thank you, you are right, it is never the same for anyone. Nice to see you.

[Steven Allison Hughes]

Yes I see, definetly worth the ride V.

Prolific... keep up the good work.

[Frank James Davis]

Exceptional poem, amazing woman, victorious life!
Although I'll probably do it before the day is out, it is nonetheless true, victoria, that you are not someone who should ever be taken lightly.
I sincerely admire you.

[. serah .]

. oh ... the things that happen to us when we suddenly spot someone we once new ... right across the street ... just like that ... and the rush of memories that follow ... and emotions too ... reminding us of all we thought we'd forgotten ... you speak of all that and more infinitely poetically in this piece, dear victoria ...

[Coyote Poetry]

A very good story in this poem. When we meet someone again. Old memories and desires can trick us into hoping for a re-match. I like the ending to the excellent poem.
Coyote

[JustLorry]

Wonderful self assessment. Favourite line is how oblivion papers over the cracks. Really enjoyed this.