I walked across a dark street near in East New York Brooklyn. It was cold and the night hours were close to the transition of morning. I could feel the heavy thump from my heart beating inside my chest, and there was no end to the needy whispers that screamed inside of my ears.
My jaw was clenched and my nerves were frayed like an old rope. The last of my wealth was spent and my last few pieces of treasure were about to be smoked in a broken glass pipe.
This is the crash everyone warned me about, but I suppose I had to feel it for myself.
This is where crack-head junkies will do anything to kill the horrible adrenaline of an incredible need. This is when people steal. This is when people sell their bodies, or worse, this is when people infected by the drug will trade their soul for nothing more than one tiny piece of white rock.

I pulled out one of my last few Continue reading →

I heard all of the names before. I heard it called the loony bin, the but house, the funny farm and flight deck. But led by a nurse, I walked through a set of white double doors with a squared wire-meshed window at the top section of each one. On the other side of those doors were white walls, white floors, and white ceilings with fluorescent light fixtures shining from overhead.
The doors to the patient rooms were the color of lightly stained wood and their frames were painted in a dull version of beige.

I was escorted down a long corridor with a nurse’s station on the left hand side at the end of the hallway. A green leafy plant stood in a rusty colored pot Continue reading →

The good old times never last forever.
Eventually, they end because they have to.
Same as the night has dawn and daytime has sunset, the times we are able to live wild and carefree are limited to a certain age.
And after that age, our frenzies are limited to weekend spurts, or small get-togethers and reunions.

As time passes, the old jokes seem to fade. But we still laugh because we still understand them. Only now, the laughs are distant because we are distant from who we once were.
Our crowds change; our friends change, and all that remains are pictures, of say, us in our perpetually young state.
All that’s left are scattered memories, which alter with age, and usually end with someone saying, “I can’t believe we got away with that.”

We lived as fast as we could and stayed crazy to the best of our ability. We laughed at our downfalls because there was always that thing called, “Tomorrow,” and we were enough to depend on that.

But at some point, I reached the bottom of the bag, and there were no more tomorrows left. Tomorrow became today and I had to pay the balance of every yesterday I left behind.

I always said, “I’ll do it tomorrow.”
Except, tomorrow charges more interest than any bank, or credit card, and its terms are always pay on demand.
However, the system is always willing to make a deal.
And yes, I had to sign on the dotted line, Yes, I had to lose in order to win.
Nothing was given to me—I had to work for what I have, just like the rest of the world.

Here I am, and I am fine with that.
Here I am, and my yesterdays are mostly paid for.

And there you are…..
Your yesterdays are adding up, and you’re still looking for someone else to bail you out.
There you are. Still talking.
Still laughing at the same old jokes.
You still hang around the younger ones because they believe you.
Either that, or their youthful ignorance is a perfect match for your lack of ambition….

1)

I was told, “Stand up.”
Then I was escorted from the glossy wooden bench in the front of the courtroom and escorted towards my counsel.
After positioning me before the judge, my appointed attorney leaned close and whispered in my ear.
“The judge is going to read off the charges against you and then he is going to ask, ‘How do you plea,’ understand?”
I nodded yes.
“After he says that, you are going to respond, ‘Not guilty,’ and he will either set bail or release you on your own recognizance. Do you understand?”
“Well, which one is it,” I asked. “Is he going to release me, or is he going to set bail?”
“I’m kind of curious to find out myself,” said the attorney.

As the judge spoke, I Continue reading →

I met Hank inside the glass double-doors on the side of a brick building near 31^st St. He was white-haired and heavy set. The top of his hands had matching tattoos; each with a tiny devil and both with the words, “The hell you say,” written beneath the cupid-like demon.
And like the blonde in Hank’s hair, the color in the tattoos had faded with age. The inked blurred Continue reading →

a)

at first, the speed was phenomenal
…that is,
until yesterday lost its genius

flame hits the glass pipe
and melts small imperfections into brilliant light.
…..within seconds,
my breathing changes; my chest becomes hollow,
like a chamber where my heartbeat echoes Continue reading →

Even with an explanation behind it, behavior is not always an understandable thing. But then again, neither is insanity, or alcoholism. Intellectually, there are reasons for our behavior. Emotionally, however, these reasons do not always mend the brokenhearted. Often, these reasons do nothing more than add to the confusion because often, our reasons fall short and make little sense.

I once sat in an upstairs office of a Continue reading →

And then………everything changed.
Reality took on a new shape and its old form crumbled away
like a body of ashes in the wind.

I found myself in familiar territory.
I felt the oncoming shake of awareness,
and I knew it wouldn’t be long
It wouldn’t be long until the inevitable took hold, and again,
I would find myself turning in the low-end of a vicious cycle.

As the bag emptied, I could feel the anxiety begin to stir.
It moved in, and I could feel the anguish coming on like a storm from the distance.

I lost…
I lost the way water loses to a drain.
All I could do was sink through the funnel
until there was nowhere left for me to spill.

But this is how it is with addiction.
I knew the mental sickness was on its way.
I knew my insanity had reached its flashing point,
and more, I knew it was only a matter of time
until there was nowhere left to turn.
The high would run out, and eventually,
even denial had a way of meeting its own reflection.

The last spoonful was gone
and all that remained were the tiny whispers,
which screamed in my head
and the ongoing need,
which brought me to my knees.

I was facing the early morning hours after a long binge,
and with nothing left to satisfy the demons,
I crawled along the planks of my hardwood floor,
searching for one last piece of sanity….
but there was none.

Every little crumb, or speck that appeared on my floor
looked like a tiny white flake—and each white flake
teased me like a mirage teases the stranded.

These are the illusions of cocaine’s aftermath…
My heartbeat thumped. My stomach turned and growled.
My skin was pasty white and my eyes were charged
like an amplified zombie.

No matter how I tried,
I could not stop my jaw from grinding
or moving back and forth.
I could not stop the mad thoughts from feasting on my sanity,
and I could not stop the horrible flow of adrenaline
from coursing through my bloodstream.

The lofty high I tried to capture was mirrored by an incredible low,
which in turn, frayed my nerves
as if every sense and muscle was flexed beyond capacity.

In this case, all anyone wants is a piece of redemption.
In my case, that redemption came in a tiny envelope or plastic bag.

This is the part of addiction I was warned about.
But to me, it wasn’t a warning.
It was more like temptation.

In my experience,
the devil never comes ugly:
He comes in the forms of beautiful chaos:
lying on the way in
…and telling truths on the way out.

In my experience,
the devil’s greatest trick isn’t what he says you should do
it’s what he says not to….

All I can say now is thank God I’m sober~

There are certain things I know as fact. And I guess I’ve always known them, but sometimes emotions get in the way and I lose my focus.
In order to keep my sanity, I needed to learn not to give it away —
I need to remember the obvious, which in some cases, is not always so obvious.
That’s why I write things down…

First:
My redemption has nothing to do with your response.
The fact that I rebuild may be the result of someone, or something else, but in the end…
It is on me.
The way I eat, think, and breathe is not and should not be hinged upon anyone else
…and neither should my redemption.

I am my own separate entity in this world, and while I connect with other people, I will remain disconnected if I forget that I am the square root to my own equation.

Continue reading →

The other day an old man told me, “Kid, I never give in to the rah-rah of St. Patrick’s day.”
Said, “It’s amateur night,” and then he went on to explain, “Real drunks don’t need a holiday to drink, fight, and destroy their lives.”
Said, “We do that on a daily basis.”
Said, “March 17^th doesn’t mean anything to me.”

When I mentioned about him being Irish, he laughed.
Told me, “I’m Irish everyday….I don’t need to put on a green shirt to remind me of that!”
He said, Continue reading →