Addiction

I fear the face of addiction
Because she looks an awful lot like me
Harsher eyes
Red and tired

I fear the voice of addiction
Because she sounds an awful lot like me
Harsher tone
Watered down and slurred

I fear addiction
Because it looks an awful lot like my mother
And her mother
And her mother
All of our eyes filled to the brim
All of our glasses overflowing

I fear addiction
Because I fear myself
And I am an addict

Unlike any one else
I don’t mean to say different
I don’t mean to say worse
Nor better
I like my pills that make me happy
Numb me to my core
And my sips of wine
That open me up
A little bit more

And I like my mother
Love her even
But when she can’t speak clearly
I feel unraveled
All of me coming undone
As I take her to bed
And finish her glass
Blood soaked teeth
Fermented fruit on my tongue

Two Valium lingering
An ativan at noon
Head splitting pain
Just to take the edge off
But I’m always on edge
Just need that extra push
To send me flying
Eyes closed
Life prying
Them open as I fall to my death
Metaphorically of course

But what’s an addict
Without her suicidal ideations
On a train to nowhere
But we’ve left the station

You may not notice
That I am under the influence now
Of Walt Whitman
And Silva Plath
All my little poets
On their dark little paths

Me with my head in the oven
Four hundred and ten
But the heat is not hot
And I’m back in bed again

It’s not that I’m scared for myself
Because I fear I’m immortal
What hasn’t killed me
Has not made me stronger
Only more dependent on it

It’s funny some days
To watch my sister have a glass of red
And leave it at that
My brother a puff and call it a night

When I can’t stop at a glass
Or a bottle
Or another bottle
And some pills after that
Until I lay in my bed
The cotton extra dry
Rubbing my legs together
Everything rough
Hard
Head spinning
One gravol
Why not two
Help me to sleep and wake up anew

And promise myself that today is the day
That I put down the bottle
Flush the pills away
But who am I kidding
I know myself too well
To know that I won’t release myself
From this soft form of hell
Hell bent on forgetting
All that I’ve known
Determined to disembark
On this journey alone

But addiction is cruel
As am I
As is my mother
And her mother
And her mother

Because we all know
We all feel
In the pits of our stomach
In the depth of our hearts
In the scratches at our necks
And the shaking of our hands
That being numb
And unafraid
Is far easier than remembering all that’s brought us here
To the point of illusions
And pretty white lies
That beneath the spirits
And the little pink pills
Lay something far worse
Something more tempting
More unforgiving

They call it
Healing
And me
And my mother
And her mother
And her mother
Are not quite ready for that

So pour me a glass
And fill my prescription
I want to sleep tonight
With inebriated cold visions

Author's Note

I wrote this under the influence haha
So mistakes me be made but that’s the price I seem to pay

Reviews

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

A very powerful and emotional piece of writing. I commend you in the sharing of your truth. It is not an easy journey to put into words one's personal frailties and share them with the world. It takes a strong heart to do that. Your honesty is to be admired and respected. I can't help but be moved by the tragedy of your suffering but to acknowledge the issue shows a will to change. You're an incredible writer and I hope you continue in this outlet of expression because you never know the life you may change by the art you share with the world.

[The Things She Noted]

Thank you so much for your kind words, this review meant a lot to me! :)

[Shelley Warner]

This poem shows the heartbreak of addiction. I like the repetition: "And my mother, and her mother, and her mother". It effectively shows addiction to be an inherited problem. And not just addiction. My mom (91) has never resolved feelings of unworthiness. And her mother before her. And her mother. I also like the part where you mention addiction to favorite poets.

[The Things She Noted]

Thank you so much! I appreciate your kind words :)

[Shelley Warner]

You're very welcome.

[Coyote Poetry]

I agree dear poet. Addiction of somethings can break us.
"So pour me a glass
And fill my prescription
I want to sleep tonight
With inebriated cold visions"
I have known the above lines and thank you for sharing the amazing poetry and your thoughts.
Coyote

[The Things She Noted]

Thank you so much! Hope you’re doing well!

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome, dear poet.

[PlayWrite]

good use of repetition, it makes the theme really leap out at you

[The Things She Noted]

Thank you so much! :)