****** or Heroine?
by Michael R. Burch

(for mothers battling addiction)

serve the Addiction;
worship the Beast;
feed the foul Pythons
your flesh, their fair feast ...

or rise up, resist
the huge many-headed hydra;
for the sake of your Loved Ones
decapitate medusa.

Keywords/Tags: drugs, addiction, user, ******, needle, tracks, marks, pain, despair, recovery

Loose Knit
by Michael R. Burch

She blesses the needle,
fetches fine red stitches,
criss-crossing, embroidering dreams
in the delicate fabric.

And if her hand jerks and twitches in puppet-like fits,
she tells herself
reality is not as threadbare as it seems ...

that a little more darning may gather loose seams.

She weaves an unraveling tapestry
of fatigue and remorse and pain; ...
only the nervously pecking needle
****** her to motion, again and again.

Published by The Chariton Review, Penumbra, Black Bear Review, and Triplopia. Keywords/Tags: Addiction, needle, veins, stitches, red, blood, ******, dreams, hallucinations, seams, darning, tapestry

She was the ****, I was the crystal
addicted to each other the moment
                                              we meet.

But every high has a come down,
                I'm the ***** needle..

She was the spoon, warming up on
               another's sleeve.

Tided tightly ready to overdose on her.

                     She was the chemical bliss
that could  be taken anywhere,  



                                         I thought...
that we were something special.

But I was used,
                      discarded.

I was useless to her, as I was unable
         to pierce the vein..

Used to many times.

So she found another way to find
              a way to make her self higher

than she was with me.

Now I'm in a come down

rehabilitated
                   and I'm struggling.

Through the skin,
Through the vein,
It was a needle
That masked the pain.

***** after *****,
I kept going
Until I felt no longer sick,
Too weary to worry.

The skin goes red,
Leaving indentations
But they looked
More welcoming than
Intimidating.

My brain is
No longer mush,
The fog
Pushed to the side,
I could finally confide in the light

My tears turn
To coal,
Burning at day,
No longer cold at night,
It keeps the sad thoughts at Bay.

Sandy was better than candy.
She helped me to smile without any guile.

Quick with a stick, for me, she did *****.
I hope her yesterday was quite good anyway.

With my blood she absconded, and to questions responded,
Quick to smile and go the extra mile.

May her draws always succeed, her patients willingly bleed.
Into the vial without a great trial.