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HomeArticles Posted by Ghostwriter (Page 2)
Poetry

Hopelessness in Alcoholism
This isn’t going as I planned
It’s like I’m racing through quick sand
Too proud to call out for a hand
I wish that I could understand
Or perhaps if I could just rewind
That first drink I took to be kind
I’d likely not be so inclined
If I knew the madness I’d designed
My skin is crawling day and night
I scoff when up comes morning light
I steal, I hide, I scream and fight
Too many wrongs that I can’t right
How did this take such a hold of me?
I used to have a close family
And dreams and friends that I would see
But the bottle’s now priority
It’s sad just how relieved I feel
The bottle has such great appeal
And it’s not all that I conceal
Yet, I’d choose it over any meal
The smell of the LCBO
The shameful lengths that I will go
It will be my demise, I know
Committing suicide real slow
I don’t deserve a second chance
So don’t give me a second glance
Into addiction I advance
Such Unfortunate circumstance
Jan 30, 2024

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Hopelessness in Alcoholism This isn’t going as I

Poetry

My Childhood
I remember when I was about four or five,
Making up dances, felt so alive.
Sleep overs often, I had friends all around.
At night, unafraid, I’d sleep safe and sound.
Then as a preteen, when puberty hit,
I began to compare, just not sure where I fit.
This girl was faster and that girl was slim…
My outlook on life became fear-filled and grim.
I dressed how they dressed, I adopted new slang,
And dashed for the phone every time that it rang.
I wanted so badly to just not stand out,
And by the time I hit high school I’d started to sprout.
Perhaps if I ate less and got name brand shoes…
I could numb insecurities with Daddy’s booze,
Just a little nip here, perhaps another nip there,
A few sips before class so I could just sit and stare.
Before long I realized I was drinking each day,
I ate lunch alone and soon quit the school play.
I stopped caring so much about what others thought,
And forgot almost everything that I was just taught.
For, my best friend in the world was contained in a bottle,
And I no longer cared about becoming a model.
I no longer cared about much anymore,
And would often wake up on a strange bedroom floor.
No more dances in courtyards, just drinking alone.
My dealer’s the only number I call on the phone.
How did this happen? Where did I go wrong?
Perhaps this was my destiny all along….
January 26, 2024

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My Childhood I remember when I was about

Poetry

My Good Friend Tina

I love to watch the crystal melt from a solid to liquid gold
The smoke, it swirls and dances free; wish I could be so bold
She hits my lungs, then veins, then heart and quickly takes effect
My pupils large, as she takes charge of this high, willing subject
I press the gas, perhaps too fast and my thoughts pick up in pace
Worries and fears and emotionless tears and no concept of time or space
An hour goes by, I’m still in the same spot, clenched muscles now achy and sore
With spasms and ticks added into the mix, I reach over and smoke some more
I barely get by on this dopamine high yet remain unfocussed and dazed
My brain cells recede as I pick and I bleed, only mildly aware, but not phased
The addict in me chooses this misery over seeing my family or friends
She rules all my time and she takes my last dime and not once has e’er made amends

4/10/2023 (2 weeks before treatment for crystal meth addiction)

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My Good Friend Tina I love to watch

Poetry

Working in Addiction
I can’t be that bad, I still have a job,
I answer the phone and don’t look like a slob.
I shower each day and I’m often on time,
And besides, no one knows, so I guess that I’m fine.
But inside my head, my thoughts swirl like fire.
If only they knew what it was I desire?
With a fake smile on, I appear to fit in,
But I don’t feel at home within my own skin.
It takes all I’ve got just to get through the day,
I’m running on fumes despite what I convey.
I’m a slave to the bottle and I’m dying inside.
‘Don’t you dare tell a soul!’ says my ego and pride.
How did this happen? I once had it all!
I laughed, I had friends, back then life was a ball.
But all the bad stuff that I ever went through
Was pushed so far down and kept secret from you.
I wouldn’t let myself cry or feel any trauma,
I just auto-piloted through being a wife and a Momma.
But soon even that wasn’t enough to conceal
The flashbacks and pain that were becoming too real.
But alas alcohol could keep me on track,
(It was nice to know something at least had my back!)
Used to drink just on weekends while hanging with friends,
But in no time the means did not lead to the ends.
I drank more and more, both in frequency and amount
Soon my number of friends, on one hand I could count.
And my job is now hanging on by a tiny thread,
My weekends are spent hung over in bed.
Everything’s spiraling out of control,
And keeping my job was my only goal,
But I sit at my desk and I stare at the screen
Then nip to the washroom, afraid to be seen
I take a quick sip for a moment’s relief
But even that moment gets more and more brief.
I still have a job, so I’m under control
Now please go away while I try and act whole
May 2, 2024

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Working in Addiction I can’t be that bad,

Poetry

Relations in the First Year of Sobriety

I’m told no big changes in my first sober year…
Just meetings and service, no drugs and no beer.
But the elders who say this just don’t understand,
Being single this year is not what I had planned.
A woman has needs and I’m going insane!
No drinking or drugs, now I must also abstain?
Come on, it’s only an hour or two that I seek
To let off some steam, why not just once a week?
If my problem is booze and I’m not even attached,
Why can’t I seek out to get this itch scratched?
At meetings I size up each guy one by one,
And wonder which one might be up for some fun.
I’m lonely, I’m bored, what harm can it do?
I’m now eight months sober and so long past due!
Come on my dear Sponsor and let me go play.
What’s wrong with an occasional romp in the hay?
No feelings, no connection, just raw carnal play
No one needs to know, we’re adults, its ok!
Let’s play out the tape? You say, knowingly
You want me to learn what it is that you see
Things might get awkward, so I’ll avoid where he goes
But rumours and whispers and soon everyone knows
I’ll start missing the meetings where I used to feel fine
And my mental and spiritual health will decline
Is an hour of fun worth this great life that I’ve found?
Nope, for now I think I’ll keep both my feet on the ground
Jan 18, 2024

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Relations in the First Year of Sobriety I’m

Poetry

Beyond the High

One says that clear head leads to good life led
but a habit of getting right sabotages a clean mind,

process of detoxing a poisoned body
struggling to tolerate withdrawal and stay alive.

the sweats, shakes and stomach aches,
what is real and what is fantasy so blended.

Dancing with death, controlled by deep pain,
living in illusions until the brain is mended.

the high…

and when did living life stop being enough?
intoxication just road blocks and hand cuffs.

So embrace the possibilities of thinking,, laughing, dreaming,
sweet sunshine, warm embrace, living life with real meaning.

to be alive, to be present, to exist with mind clear
acting from the heart, love realized, inner spirit finally set free.

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Beyond the High One says that clear head

Personal Journeys, Poetry

The bitter taste of serenity
The pleasure of my guilt
The loneliness of peace
The paradise I have built

The weeks feel like days
The years feel like months
Occasions turn irrelevant
Relationships turn blunt

I watch my whole world Crumble
My conscience is not phased
I definitely don’t need therapy
Don’t tell me that I’m crazed

Next week will be different
The lies I tell myself
Addiction is a mind set
I fucking hate myself

The mind a temple
But temples they can fall
It’s time to kick the habit
Or the habit will take it all

The path that I am walking
I feel I am alone
I have no one to talk to
I have no place at home

I scream out loud for help
But only I can hear
If you could see inside my mind
You’d likely shed a tear

And as the days go on
It seems to last much longer
Reality is a fantasy
It’s grip is getting stronger

So as these words conclude
Be weary where you tread
Your love could be the difference
Of Wether I’m alive or dead

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The bitter taste of serenity The pleasure of

Poetry

Rock Bottom

What is rock bottom?
You are lucky if you have to ask.

Stuck in a pit, standing on wet, jagged stones
painfully piercing the soles of spent Chuck Taylors,
.
Yet feeling something is preferrable to feeling invisible
like when one’s whole life is disappearing
as death dances with life in the form of addiction.

Ride the dragon, stuck on getting right,
one’s life tumbles, crumbles all around
smokey rooms and nodding out,
and getting right morphs to fright when coming down.

Chase the dragon but fail to catch up,
withdrawal comes knocking,
jonesing for one last fix, but more always follow,
hard to stay the course when recovery cam move slow.

Release the dragon, strive to heal,.
fake faith helps guide the non-spiritual,
who boldly repeat foxhole prayers,
looking for miracles on which they believe so little.

Ride out the pain, let go of shame
unloosen the chain of addiction untamed
getting clean almost attained,
when sobriety arrives and guides the way,
levitating above rock bottom haze,
detoxed, rehabbed, and once more safe.

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Rock Bottom What is rock bottom? You are lucky

Personal Journeys, Poetry

Guess it’s been a dark ride here, Cause I’m not sure where I’ve been. I got lost in all the chaos When the bottle sucked me in. From there it was just a dream, An illusion of what was not, And when I was lost the most Is when the bottle hit its spot. Lookin’ out from the inside, I watch as the world goes by. It seems so all together, But I’m not and I wonder why. What’s the difference between us That some seem to find the way Past a bottle of empty promises And hope of a better day. Lord; help me get out of here, It’s a dark place and I’m alone. The only thing that’s real at all Are memories of love and home. This is nowhere I wanna be, But I’m here all the time, Thinkin’ back to those sweet days When feelin’ good meant feelin’ fine.

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Guess it’s been a dark ride here,

Personal Journeys, Poetry

Dear Alcohol,
Its time to say goodbye you duplicitous thief. We’ve had some great times man, no doubt about it. You just couldn’t stand to be in the background could you? Always fighting for the spotlight. Mr. Centerstage couldn’t just be a fun addition to the party, you had to make sure it was all eyes on you. Always showing off how strong you are, taking control of every situation, manipulating every emotion to lead right back to you. The Narcissist in a bottle, the Sociopath in a can, the Courageous Facade in a glass, consistent if nothing else. The time has come to part ways. You have overstayed your welcome and have begun to cause discord in my life. “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man I put the ways of a child behind me” (1 Corinthians 13:11). As the man of my house I have no room or time for your immaturity, your ever daunting recklessness, or your hidden agendas. The harm you have done to me and mine is insurmountable, the things you have done to me are detestable, but you know what? I forgive you. They say holding a grudge is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. I hold no grudge against you and you were my poison, so I guess you could call that two birds with one stone Big Dog. I’d like to say I’m gonna miss you but that’s the beauty of an ugly break up isn’t it? You never want to see the other person again. So this is it, bye-dios bro. You almost took me with you too but you forgot one thing… I GOT THAT DOG IN ME.

Later Hater.

J.R.I.

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Dear Alcohol, Its time to say goodbye you