Sure . . .
I have good memories of bad things. This is why I kept doing them, which makes sense because nothing is addicting when it feels bad. The truth is many of the things I did felt so good that I began to explore and branch out to find other ways to feel even better.
Nothing like this begins with tragedy. It was all in fun. Stupid games like, Ring and Run become bigger and better. It starts small—like prank phone calls or small plots of youthful mischief to kill the boredom.
Drinking started with stealing sips of adult beverages whenever I had the chance. Then I became brave enough to dare and learn what happens when I drank enough to feel the results. It was like daring the world and dancing on the edge between safety and trouble. I found a different kind of Continue reading →

Small flame heats the spoon
which holds the key to an ongoing romance.

. . . . It seems as if yesterday has been gone for decades
only, you never noticed this
. . . . because you got lost in your own machine

Your eyes shut down to the half-mass nod
your body hovers, weightless,
drifting in the loft of a gentle seclusion
and it’s, “Us against them,”
because no one understands but us.
Am I right? Continue reading →

Like anything else, the night always starts off with the best of intentions.
It begins with a phone call to a group of friends and plans for a much needed night of madness and redemption. And it’s good to feel this way.
It helps us rebel against the boredom and stagnant lives that would otherwise plague a mundane existence.

So it begins . . .
The first drink of the night finishes with a satisfied, “AHHHH!”
This is the perfect exhale after a long day, or better, this is the perfect release after a long week, and in that exclamation point of an exhale, It marks the beginning of a celebration, which we pay for in full.
In that Continue reading →

I saw the perfect world our parents tried to give us disappear and vanish in the eyes of teenage boys on the verge of a terrible sickness.

And the parents wondered, “Why?”
They wondered, “Where did we go wrong?”

The drug culture is not a new thing. But parents seem to overlook this as if they have forgotten what they went through as teenagers. We come from a generation of excess. We come from more; we come from Continue reading →

1.

I had no idea what to expect . . .
When I was told they were going to send me to A.A meetings, I pictured dimly lit rooms, and round wooden tables with old men sitting quietly on matching wooden chairs.
I imagined they sat without speaking—and I figured everyone smoked with a lit cigarette either dangling from their lip as the smoke curled upwards, or perhaps they leaned over with an elbow on the table and the cigarette fit between their pointer and forefinger.

I imagined a room filled with Continue reading →

There is a fine line between us and the edge.
Sometimes we feel as if we are teetering over it . . . the edge, I mean.
I know this because I have visited this edge several times myself.

I recall standing at the driver’s side door of my car while parked in front of a momentary place I called home. I remember the stillness of my town during a quiet Sunday morning. I could hear the sound of Church bells nearby and felt an overwhelming sense of awareness as I awoke in the aftermath of my behavior.
I stood between myself and change. I was at a crossroad and Continue reading →

Junk:

White horse gallops through steel shafts
which pierce your flesh
. . . . punctures your vein
and tunnels into bloodstream    

(This is you)

Your eyes slowly Continue reading →

We were talking about the yesterdays,
you and me . . .

But understand something,
the wreckage of your past
will eventually  fade
and the memories of who you were
will eventually become distant
and lose its sting.

Understand that over time,
days come between now and then.
Your 30 days will Continue reading →

 When I hear the sound of heavy heels
clapping against a hard tiled floor,
I connect it with the sound of jingling keys
and barred doors that won’t open
from the inside.

I think of the 3 a.m. drunken disorderly
and how they howl about their rights
after vomiting in a stainless steel toilet.

I Think about the small cell and the hard wooden bench
I think of the youngsters, or the first Continue reading →

I was under the influence of something more than just a mild chemical reaction. Someone, and I was never sure who, suggested I try a bag.
“It will help you come down,” they said. “It’ll stop the fiend [or urge] from getting to you.” But what no one explained was the trade of one evil for another.

The weather was warm and the sweat beaded down the bridge of my nose. The long strands of my hair were clumped together with sweat and blood sped throughout my Continue reading →