Needles and syringes;
Heroine, my beautiful medication.
White robe, blue belt,
I was loving my profession of alcohol and drug indulgence.
my growing shadow, aided by the lighting from the burning flame below,
silently watching on;
“One hit and I will be perfect,” begs my ****** soul.
I have watched the moon every night.
Witnessed as she comes and goes.
Atimes, she is full and bright;
at others, she is nothing but a waning dull curve,
travelling leisurely across the sky;
Her face, a dire one,
filled with laughter and mockery
as she wonders what went wrong with me.
30 nights and 12months of 11years,
I too, an answer I have failed to find.
Last night, there was this darkness,
and all I can remember is the music that accompanied it.
Dark themed and suicidal,
Yet, it is the closest I have come to solitude in so many years.
Tonight I am back again, bent over my last dosage for the night.
The moon is not in sight.
I wonder if my friend, if she is one,
Has forgotten about me tonight.
But there she is again.
Maybe she isn’t taunting me;
Maybe she is as confused as I am,
Or is she also lost?
Why can’t she seem to find her way home?
Oh the ramblings of a somber mind.
Dedicated to all those struggling with an addiction and trying to make something of their lives, you are not alone. You will be fine. Be strong for the world needs you. God bless.