slow, easy boiled...
surfacing memories of ancient scents and vision.
passing through intricate maze.
steps concealed by meticulous painted futures.

the ember smolders in silence.
who am i?

disguised and hidden, choked is the artist within.
"to thine own self be true." words on my wall
penned near perfect by genius who gave all to
his talent.

the calligraphic illumination created in time.
a time of clarity and steady hands. so long ago.

questioning the gain of my independence, what is learned?
tasting the world, losing love and family nearly swallowed by darkness.
i survived, inwardly frozen, moving forward. for once i desire to be free,
cared for and not possessed. Here am I.

romantic notions gone, shadowed by harsh reality of the world.
Crushed by world systems where creativity is caught in the cogs.
the depth of wholeness and sensibility the only treasure collected
along the way.

My exterior lacks it youthful beauty and innocence.
Go back to embrace the frightened girl of the past. The girl with no future
or so she thought?

Here am I, with eyes shut seeing myself emerge.
Only to open these eyes to a face I do not recognize.
with a man i know not for the mask of addiction
deceives, withdraws, manipulates and plays the game
so well. again i am duped by the charm.

requiem for an addict

so let me introduce myself.
Don't cha know my name?

it's me. the liquid sliding over iced glass.
the daily use that craving never fulfills.
yes, the sound of clinking ice, cracking when poured over
over cubes that become reflected life.

it's me. a desperate resonant gulp, sliding down your throat,
coursing through your veins till trembling hands and mind are stilled.
stilled in silence, numb to the stark reality that you need me.

it's me. the one you owe allegiance to, bowing each day.
stashing bottles every size shape and color. carefully hiding your precious.
just in case you forget to worship in the temple of necessity.

it's me. in manifest profusion of forms to the populace.
every sip, puff or swallow a step closer to your last.
cycling back to again to your first.
it's hard to deny my compelling force of want.

it's me. buffering your pain with commanding adherence.
using me for all your ills, no other god stands before me
when you love the taste and feel, laying your down for just one taste.

it's me. disguised in smoke and mirrors.
reflected in forms of needles, power and crystallized potions.
i am the passion you live for, with devotion that empties your bank,
crushing those who love you, siphoning your life dry.

it's me the face and embodiment of kaleidoscopic substances.
the drink of spirits, misleading the search for meaning,
a deceptively smooth slide into oblivion, till death do we part.

other side of addiction

wounded, stabbing silent pain, so deep it aches.
unwept tears behind these eyes.
the prison of pearly whites block exit or entrance
of healing streams.

endless cruelty in action, words...
a sword drawn to the weak,
snuffs a soul from light or hope.

sensitivity misunderstood,
ridiculed as the weakened heart
lays blistered with neglect,
emptied of it's love.

it's been said "the heart is a lonely hunter..."
such is mine. to that i say amen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter is
the debut 1940 novel by Carson McCullers

between here and there

waltzing concentric circles so near towards the edge of insanity,
touching the rimmed abyss of nothingness.
the darkness calls for light, beckoning my steps.
my feet gently tipping into the emptiness,
this border so thin between here and there.

dancing alone, so alone.
learning steps to keep from sliding off the edge,
clipping him with the precision of sobriety.

swirling round and round, dizzying thoughts flying
overtaken the careful steps. swirling, falling with eyes shut.
the world and i one spinning on eternal daily axis,
between the addict and me.

i dance to the light, tripping on his darkness. he's not
free - nor ever will be until his steps are twelve.

Two sides of Addiction...

Again I bring up the defining term of what it is to be an addict. Again I bring up the other side of addiction so we can heal both sides.


According to Dr. John Bledsoe:

What Is Addiction? Addiction has been defined as an "abnormal attachment to a behavior or chemical that produces compulsion and shame with a consistent and progressive deterioration of the ability to function." The following information on addiction is limited to mood altering drugs, including alcohol. Addiction is a self-imposed condition created by the abuse of drugs including alcohol. Dr Bledsoe is CEO, Calhoun Counseling Services, Inc.

As I read from the "SHE WRITES" journal pages about the experience of her steps along side of the addict, I am reminded why I began this blog. To give voice to those who are not addicts living with or loving someone who is. The addict gets attention from the Doctors, rehab facilities and 12 step programs all without non-addicts voices being heard. Not once did anyone ask the non-addict views, experience of the addict’s condition and what is known to be true. None of those losses counted for. All these financial drains, agony or constant covering up are often ignored.

The line between addict and non- addict is hairline that blurs and breaks at times. The addict moves and lives within his own world of need, creating an outward appearance that both charms and deceives their relations, the circle of people they collect. Addicts are users. The people they know simply become vehicles to the end of getting their drugs, covering their mistakes and absorption of all their problems, issues, and bailouts. Even during the addicts recovery the ones who stand by, still end up in the same role. Never knowing when they might lie and slide back into their old ways. WHY? Addicts lie too well, especially to themselves. Non-Addicts are far to willing to forgive and forget.

The root of their existence is money and their substance. In fact everything to do with and addict needs money. Obtaining money to an addict is necessary to the point of worship. They will do anything for the money to buy their substance of choice. They in fact will steal, commit crimes and betray those who stand in their way for their addiction. They often can't keep a job and even rip off their own employers. Isn't this a truly vicious cycle worth breaking?

Today I read an interesting passage in a daily devotion from Os Hillman called Prime Time with God I wondered if this also included addicts and a possible spiritual root. Just replace the word money with the term addiction/substance. I think it not a coincidence that money and addiction go hand in hand. He writes this:

Mammon is an Aramaic demonic spirit that was worshipped as a false god by the Philistines. Mammon desires to be worshipped, have influence, and control of peoples' lives to require love and devotion through the use of money. Money is simply the instrument by which mammon seeks to have power.

any spirit that opposes God seeks to influence people through deception. It wants to gain loyalty and love without you knowing it has done so. The primary lie behind the spirit of mammon is that money contains power. It encourages people to place disproportionate value on money because of the power it has to influence and control others. The symptoms of being controlled by the spirit of mammon are revealed when we allow our activities to be governed by the amount of money we have instead of God alone. It makes us believe one's provision is his/her employer, spouse, investments, or other money source. So, when we allow money to rule the choices in our lives we have yielded to the spirit of mammon.

So if you are interested in reading more words about those who love addicts, spend some time at this site page called "Why is it so hard on us non-addicts?" Until addicts actually see the insanity of what they do to people, and non-addicts are knowledgeable about the tricks, smoke and mirrors of the addicts, the cycle of abuse will continue forever.

Your comments and feedback are welcome. Put all the cards on the table for once!