#methadone
Oh joy to me,
I have awakened
It seems the night has left my skin dry,
And my beautiful dreams lost to
The methadone sky
My chin stubbled, lips cracked
I try to remember,
Reach for my dream
It disappears into nothingness
The mangled battlefields of mine
How I need to remember
That methadone sky
Oh joy to me,
She has awakened
It seems the night has left her skin moist,
And her beautiful dreams lost to
The methadone sky
Her cheeks cut, lips scabbed
I try to make her,
Reach for our dreams
They disappear into nothingness
The mangled battlefields of time
Oh how she needs to remember
That methadone sky
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 9:08 AM UTC
Driving through Kentucky.
Fields fragrant with summer flowers,
spring fast approaching.
En-route to meet the boys of previous
summers lounging in London streets, fields, and serpentine parks,
And, stairs leading down to unwelcoming basements; as is the British way.
Malls of America now act as labyrinths.
Where the hell can I park my car?
Again, I ask, where the **** can I park my car?
I don’t care.
I just won’t park my ******* car,
in this god-forsaken middle of the western U.S.
Louisville, better yet, Hicksville.
I pop another Vicodin to get rid of this ill,
Surviving bit by bit but drained incessantly until,
I am no longer near fill, in spirit or in gasoline, tangible but also metaphysical.
Someone plunge into my depressed psyche and drill, drill,
DRILL!
Hey waitress of my mind, may I please request the bill?
With a pocket full of Xanax and a duffel bag of boomers,
my pockets jingle, (click-clack) as the pills bounce around with
every step, treating addiction with more drugs appears
to be the current stance of the know nothing doctors across this greatest nation on God’s green earth.
Hey babe, “want to walk with me to the methadone clinic,”
It’s rainy out, cold rain, can you carry my umbrella?
I can’t miss my dose or I’ll get sick.
So again I ask
Babe?
Walk with me to the methadone clinic?
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 6:13 PM UTC
Standing in the hospital
Hungover, feeling jittery
Ward 93
Drug and Alcohol Dependency Unit
I finger the squeezy lemon bottle
Hidden inside my boxer shorts
Full of second-hand ****
Ward 93 operates as a strict regime
3 strikes and you're out
That means that every time
You give a positive sample
They give you a warning
More than 3 and your
Methadone is stopped
I'd had all 3
After a phone call to my
( only) clean friend
I met him in the pub
3 or 4 beers later
I hit him with it
He took it reasonably well
It not being every day
A friend asks you to ****
Into a bottle for him
So......
There I was, hungover nervous
With a squeezy lemon of
Someone elses **** in my shorts
Hidden just behind my *****
To keep it at body temperature
If you handed over the sample
Bottle and it was cold
The Nurse might become suspicious
Or think that you were dead
This required sleight of hand
And nerve
The Nurse would stand right behind you
In the cubicle to watch you
Anyway
It worked
This time
The next time I couldn't
Get in touch with my friend
So I had to resort to
Trying it with tea
Amazingly they said
That this sample contained
Opiates
And I was thrown off the programme
Either their equipment was faulty
The bottle was contaminated
Or something
But just in case
I started to
Drink a lot of tea
Well, you never know
And I guess
They've got to keep
Sales up
Somehow
Sep 27, 2017
Sep 27, 2017 at 6:03 PM UTC