a)
At first, the speed was phenomenal
…..…that is,
until yesterday lost its genius
Flame hits the glass pipe
to melt small imperfections into brilliant light.
Within seconds,
my breathing changes; my chest becomes hollow,
like a chamber where my heartbeat thumps
and pumps the madness throughout my bloodstream
Tiny bells chime in my ears and the world becomes soft
(But it’s only temporary)
The rush pulls me into this semi-supreme state of weightlessness….
I am overrun
I am overtaken and swallowed into the white lies,
which only last a few minutes
Outside… an ambulance keeps passing my window.
It’s the same one, adding conflict to the paranoid whispers that say,
“They’re out there.”
It’s like I said, the speed was phenomenal.
The way my mind and chest turned beautifully numb was amazing
…that is,
until yesterday lost its genius
I loved this ritual,
but the whispers were too loud
b)
Tiny movements sway into the excess of breath
I envy these moments between in and out.
My chest is neither full nor flat: time has yet to move,
as if everything paused
…and all that was heavy has lifted.
I emerge from my personal shadow
into the transaction of synthetic light (So I can breathe)
Everything sways,
like winds that blow across the fields of half-bent grass.
I guess this is what they warned me about
“Did you bring it?”
“Good…..I’ll take two.”
The dirt is earth, so I lay back.
I sink into the ground, envisioning the warmth,
which moves through my body in staggering waves of beautiful chaos
Here, my weariness becomes nothing.
Closer to dying, I am alive and fine.
I am comfortable in the provocative sickness
and then I head west
before the police can keep me from my secret.
As I give in,
warm miracles make the trip worthy.
Withering demons meet me halfway,
and I find myself refreshed on the streets of East New York, Brooklyn.
This is when the nod turns into episodes of nothingness
My head unfolds into shades of blue as I dangle from invisible strings
and keep myself weightless.
I am lost, like in a cocoon.
I am hypnotized for what seems to be tiny pieces of eternity…..
it’s like I’m stranded in the whiskers of Heavenly Father’s beard
…..and everything is gray.
c)
Ten thousand yesterdays would mean nothing if I went back.
Actually, it’s 8,190 (Approximately)
That’s how many days fit into to my sobriety
That’s 196,560 hours
or 7,076,160,000 seconds and counting…..
if I’m counting
The Written Addiction 