Out of all these poems I've written of love and longing,
Out of all these years searching in the sea of people,
I still yet to understand how it's possible to have words without a muse

I often wonder what it would be like to have a muse without words
I believe it would feel suffocating
As you choke on all the words you long to exhale within your next breath
For a poet to be trapped by words is to be trapped by passion

Sometimes my heart swells up so big it walks across a sea of words and sinks into the deepness of the waters
Lost among the clearer beats on land
An abnormality pushed away from love like an ancient curse buried in my skin
One day i'll make it learn to swim rather than let it sink and bathe in sin

The question still remains
Would it be better to have a muse and feel like drowning,
Or to have the the words to accompany the lonely?

ad·dic·tion
əˈdikSH(ə)n/Submit
noun
the fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance, thing, or activity.


Step back a second,
before you judge,
and let me tell you the facts,
of addiction to drugs.

People think it’s clear cut,
that you chose to be an addict.
That the bottle, or needle,
is just some kind of tick.

They don’t know the fear,
when you’re not in control.
When you’re crying, while using,
and it’s ripping you’re soul.

They don’t know the feeling,
when you start to hide it away.
It’s a secret, I’m fine,
just another day.

They can’t see the battle,
of you versus your mind.
When you’re scared you might die,
but you try to act fine.

They don’t know the feeling,
when you know that they know,
and they don’t say a thing,
as you watch their disappointment grow.

They don’t know you slept,
on the bathroom floor,
passed out from your drug,
because you shut the door.

They don’t see,
you pushing your sides.
Checking your organs,
hoping today you won’t die.

Your fingernails are pink,
thats healthy right?
You don’t have a problem,
your eyes are still bright.

Who are you fooling,
they see the weight loss.
They know somethings wrong,
but it’s a bridge they won’t cross.

Now your on your own,
fighting your own brain,
trying your best to stop,
but you’re going insane.

Your addiction has won,
and you still try to fight.
That’s what no one sees,
is that you never lost sight.

That voice in your head,
that person you used to be,
has been drowned out,
by that addictive personality.

You want to apologize,
to simply beg for help,
but the shame stops you,
because you just blame yourself.

You didn’t choose to be this,
and you wish to take it back,
but you don’t think they’ll believe you,
because they can’t see the cracks.

Please don’t judge me,
I don’t want this at all.
I wish you understood,
that I’m against the wall.

I want my life back,
I want it to go away.
I never wanted to disappoint,
I didn’t want to be afraid.

Help me.


If you are having addiction struggles, I urge you to contact the helpline 1-888-508-4193.  There is no shame in admitting you need help with something you cannot control. I wish the best for you all.

It's hidden,
among the thick viridescent vines
It's somewhere just beyond the cumulus clouds
It's tangled within the particles carried in the smoke
exhaled through her pursed rouge lips

It's akin to a polychromatic dragon,
slithering through the boiling concrete like
a rainbow snake

It's a doe, staring at you
Blankly
Absorbing your soul

But you never look into the mirror for too long,
Do you?
Because if you do
You will start falling into yourself
Over and over
through infinite dimensions
Your mind will flip you like a hologram
through cubes rotating
on a conveyor belt
You would lose your body,
momentarily disassociated,
Eternally disconnected

But it's funny you see,
Because I talk in riddles
For you to not quite understand me
The significance is imbued within the images
If you dare contemplate them

It's hidden
Like the soft roll of the sea
tugged gently by the crescent moon
On the sand it's finally quiet,
No more bustling life

Maybe it's hidden
Behind those iridescent sunglasses
Hidden in those concealed eyes,
That concealed heart.