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Poetry

ODE TO JUNK

“Come to the shooting gallery –
Today poison is mellow –
Get your stuff, get your stuff!”
And she boots me till I Glow
Insatiable, I can’t get enough
Like a vampire needing blood
I then try some angel dust
Receiving my orgasmic jolt and
A slave to cosmic contraband
In love with chemical lust
Speedballing fast and flying high
Through the clouds to kiss the sky
Thanks to the dealer in this grotshop
On whom I so rely
And I never miss a drop
Not much later I pop some acid
Gliding away on a terrific trip
Into space and out of sight
Captain Cosmos and I’m only a kid
But free-er than you at this height
And with my free-base extraction kit
A neophyte inhaling snow
Exploring virgin territory
Coke, I sure am crying for it
And my mind it sure does blow
And with pupils like pin-points
I put away my clotted needle
Yes I’m booted and bullet-proof
And enjoying two juicy joints
And floating slowly through the roof
I’ll cop again in three hours
Ketamine and Nitazenes
Infused through core pills
Fentanyl, Vicadin
And OxyContin
Close all window-sills
Hip hallucinations a hit away
Living only for that score
When I’ll again receive party powers
But I’m needing more and more
Now fleshing out Krokodil
Synthetically morphing my escape
Who knows what life it kills
During a green and scaly foray
Hope this dope don’t croak my escape
As I face my foul decay
Meet my friend, a fixer chick
As we hustle Johns on the side
Because we need the extra loot
For enough to get the same kick
When we score again and shoot
We do Johns at Toilet Swallow
It’s a pity about my herpes
But we crave cash for a gram
Especially now, I’m feeling so low
And for a fix I give a damn
Sweating while coughing black phlegm and blood
The withdrawal pangs of cold turkey
With a slight case of jaundice
In the mirror my alien face is crud
But you get used to it with practice
One more John and I’ll have the cash
To score a little ‘ice’ cream
And maybe a bit of hash
Some ego food for this funky dude
My desire so extremely lewd
Again I withdraw my rusted syringe
A certifiable narcissist on heat
Yes baby, this is a spacial binge
As I receive that supercharged flash
And loving my effigy, burning to ash
Smugglers, lookouts, baggers, and pushers
Heroin, snow, crystal-meth and cappis
Bongs, burners, needles and spoons
Fixers, snorters, draggers and poppers
And we all keep singing their tunes
They say it’s so diabolic
That I should be a coke-a-holic
But how the hell would they know
About ego-rushes so euphoric
If they’ll never have a go?
So it’s a dirty and dangerous trade
But the bribed cops wouldn’t dare raid
We coke-heads thrive on it
Stuff you, it’s a junkie’s element
So don’t bug me you mothers – relent!
Losing my nasal membrane
A hole in the septum of my nose
As I visit the full-time snow-brokers
For another relief from pain
Yeah, I sure do need those jokers
Nearly there, thanks to quite a good day
Doing Johns, must’ve turned twenty tricks
And all of them were condoned
Now heaps of death with which to pay
For lots of smack to get me stoned
Aspirins and cola gives you quite a buzz
Or so they used to say
Went to the loo and pee’d
And soon afterwards O.D.’d
Forgetting goodbyes – futile fatal seed.

DjMayhew

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ODE TO JUNK "Come to the shooting gallery

Poetry

Author: Chris G.

Gonna be a problem.

From the second you entered my body,
And swept through like a warm soothing wave.
I knew instantaneously,
You were gonna be a problem,
I laid down in pain when I’d go without your embrace,
Feeling a dire sense of relief the moment I got a taste,
Being surrounded by many in the same situation,
All different,
Yet the same we were all in drug nation,
Some of us past and didn’t come back,
While those left behind talking like it was nothing while taking hits of crack,
All aware of how this fucking nightmare could end,
Unable to get past the drugs being our one and only friend,
This problem of mine leading only to death,
Never stopped me from stopping even til my almost last breath,
Been dead now too many times to reflect about,
I have to pull away Problem you can’t keep me in doubt,
It pains me to walk away from those ‘good times’ we had,
But reality of it is those ‘good times’ were truly all bad,
I miss you sometimes the way you hugged me within,
Til I think of how much of me you had actually taken,
So middle fingers raised high in salute,
To my old friend Problem who has finally gotten the boot.

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Author: Chris G. Gonna be a problem. From the

Poetry

A shot of life sent upright.
Long sleeve cover-ups for a pair of gold mines.
Less is more won’t work tonight.

“It’s not for me.”

On a good day, you can make a bargain.
Insecurity traded for your arm, then.

blood fire

If it’s your third first try, you’re about to know.
There and back, the unknown’s known to blow.

departure

Powder and hues split and proliferate.
Sloppy grit and milk on no dinner plate.

oil spill

When you forget yesterday’s shadows, you see a new light.
A rush like “eureka!” comes out the urethra.
Railroad rage, I turn to more loco motives.
All stress is gone; it’s a brand-new dawn.
Curt, it’s curt when love occurs.
Foam that shone and stained a nurse.

stop rising

It does the job, you do it great.
Hallucinate a human taste,
fallen angels, and a munchkin.
Sudden, much too mushed in.

direct burial

Turn the dull remarkable, a move I must pull.
Well, it’s the wet smell of a well in my head.
I’ll take the edge off the train tracks and rail on, instead.

Tomorrow.

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A shot of life sent upright. Long sleeve

Personal Journeys, Poetry, Spiritual Recovery, Treatment Programs

Author: Logan

they teach you that drugs are bad

but they don’t teach you how to deal with the pain when you’re sad

nobody warned me it could get this bad

i swear i continue to lose everything i’ve ever had

but what do you do when you don’t give a fuuck

when your minds in a rut

always blame things on bad luck

and how the fuck is my mind so sick

life threw me lessons but it never would click

I thought I figured it out, finally found my cure

but all these pills do is put my mind in a blur

the devil asked me to dance so I said sure

it’s gotta be better than the feelings I endure

i swear it was working I couldn’t feel a thing

didn’t realize all the destruction that it could bring

I hurt people around me i hurt the ones that care

but then without them life became a fucking nightmare

I had had enough so I did something that was rare

I said i’m done doing drugs i swear

this pain is nothing i can bare

then the truth was revealed

everything became crystal clear

the pain will follow no matter what it’s always near

do i give up or persevere?

nothing really mattered the drugs were never enough

and everyone swears that i am so tough

little do they know i’ve been drowning cause life is rough

nothing seemed to stop me even being in handcuffs

i gave up everything, every dream

i was living on the streets without a fucking thing

as long as i had these substances to get me through the night

i swear my eyes used to shine so fucking bright

but now i struggle everyday to even find a light

tryna find something inside me to that I can ignite

but all i seemed to find was an evil gunfight

i’ve been at war with myself for as long as I know

no wonder why it feels impossible to ever let go

I been hurting bad and my eyes always show

eventually I realized the drugs had complete control

kinda like the government and the secrets that they hold

I started to think would i ever feel whole

and can I even reach a goal

if only I knew how it would unfold

i found a girl and I swear I had found gold

her personality shined so bright she was beautifully bold

so tell me how someone can turn so goddamn cold

I loved her so hard I never thought I could let go

my heart was broken but it fell apart a long time ago

I wish she knew my feelings but I always struggled to show

maybe if I tried harder she would still be by my side

but deep down i know she’ll forever be my ride or die

she really is the only one that can make me cry

but I still never want to fucking say goodbye

I’d give up anything even getting high

I mean that with all I have I can’t even lie

I don’t need anything else she does more than satisfy

when i’m with her I feel like I could fly

you really only meet someone like this once in a lifetime

I fell in love right away she needed to be mine

everydays a good day even if we out committing crimes

damn you should see this girl she’s a fucking dime

with her there’s not a mountain i couldn’t clime

when i’m with her i’m always in my prime

the day she left me destroyed me inside

I couldn’t get her off my mind as long as i tried

I needed something strong to make me numb

I would’ve pulled the trigger if I had a gun

what’s a life without my love I swore she was the one

when she was mine I swear I had won, like I hit a home run, if anyone were to hurt her i’d pull up w a shotgun

It hurt so bad I needed something strong

I was so down couldn’t even hit the bong

cause when I did she stayed on my mind for so goddamn long

then one day someone offered me a remedy

they said I promise you I found the perfect recipe

it’ll heal you mentally

way faster than therapy

so do you want the key?

please yes give me anything

I don’t care what it may bring

help me breathe

then they handed me something that would never leave

growing up we learned to stay away from any hard drug

but they must not know the feeling when it goes straight to your blood

that type of rush can’t be beat by any fucking hug

the needle is evil in the sweetest kind of way

the deeply rooted pain quickly began to slip away

this feeling of bliss i need it to stay

yes i had finally found the strongest getaway

even though i kept dying every other day

you’d think that would be enough for me to make a change

but nah I gave the dope man my life in exchange

I turned into a zombie from this game

I would find anything to blame

I didn’t even recognize the person I became

I knew it was lame and I was living in shame

and all the fiends seemed to feel the same

I could tell we were all tryna escape the fucking pain

the amount of lives i’ve had to save is truly goddamn sad

nobody does heroin unless things are really fucking bad

you know your head ain’t right

when you can’t sleep at night

never have an appetite

life doesn’t matter n i’m losing the fight

i don’t give a fuck if I make it through the night

life turns darker and I struggle to ignite

really losing all the light

everybody now notices my eyes don’t shine so bright

if your dancing with the devil just know he will bite

living this lifestyle your guaranteed to lose the fight

addiction is a battle nothing happens overnight

but if you put the work in you can take back your life

cause if you keep it up you’ll soon see the afterlife

don’t you want to feel alive? right now your just living to fucking survive

I promise you can make it through and you’re gonna thrive

don’t let your friends and family have to say goodbye

the pain you put them through is never worth the high

addicts know addicts n we always justify

but take my advice all of your problems will just multiply

and soon enough nothing will satisfy

i’ve lived my whole life using drugs to get by

you’ll have dual personalities like a gemini

now i want you to look me in the eye

i know your not happy and you can’t deny

listen to my words cause i only speak the truth

I wish I could turn the time back to my youth

I promise you there are better ways to soothe

because right now you don’t even know you

still feel so blue from what you’ve been through

stop destroying yourself if only you could see my point of view

just make sure your chillin with the right crew

you’ve been through hell there’s nothing you can’t do

n the real ones will always help you through

forgive yourself you’re only human too

pain is inevitable there’s nothing you can do

but you can grow from it or it’ll control you

you don’t need to fight this battle alone

i know you always try to do it all on your own

I promise it’s easier here try some methadone

don’t live up to expectations, set up your own milestones

  i know it’s hard but it’s okay to ask for help

stop the torture nobody can do it themselves

let people make it easier for you

love and support always helps you make it through

there’s no timeline recovery’s not a straight line

and relapses happen don’t let it be a reason to decline

you still have people rooting for you on the sideline

recovery is a process it’s hard and it hurts

but i know it’s fucking worth it if it gets you out the dirt

no matter where you go your addiction will always lurk

you’ll always be an addict and it’s constant fucking work

but don’t let it define you cause you have so much worth

I hope you fall in love with being alive

you’ve struggled a lot it’s been a long drive

you deserve happiness and some peace of mind

so give yourself a chance and leave that shit behind

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Author: Logan they teach you that drugs are

Personal Journeys

By Leslie Cappiello

His death. Unexpected and sudden. Happy and grounded he seemed at this stage in his life at thirty and preparing for his 12-year-old daughter’s arrival. He had not seen her in five years, mostly because he was using or in jail or in another toxic relationship.  However, things appeared to be turning around after he was released from jail.  He began working right away, saving up for an apartment. I was blinded by hope. but in hindsight, he was hiding his return to drugs and girlfriend, also an addict.

As his mother, I could only pray and encourage him to make good choices; stay away from others that brought him down. To see himself worthy of a healthy relationship. He had a lot to offer with a big heart and a forgiving spirit. I overlooked the darkness that he struggled with and encouraged him the best I could with positive affirmations. I lived in fear but believing somehow he would make it out of the pit of discouragement that followed him around like a dark cloud.  But in my denial, I missed the signs. Could I have changed the course of his final day? I wrestle with this question and sometimes find myself screaming at God, but in reality, I know that we all make our choices, but oh, how I wish it had been me instead of him.

He had me, an older sister, and three other brothers; we were close and supportive of one another, but it wasn’t enough. He missed his father. He went to live with him as a teenager; little did I know that his dad would bond with our son through drugs. When it became obvious what was happening, it was too late. He was 18-years-old, and now a father himself. The responsibility of his choices closed in. I did the only thing I knew to do, hit the floor on my knees in fervent prayer. Hadn’t God promised that he’d keep those we love safe from harm if we believed for what we asked for? That was my daily mantra and continued the illusion that everything was just fine. After his dad’s death, the depression tightened its deadly grip. He couldn’t shake the pervasive longing for his father, though he knew their relationship was unhealthy. He chose to hide his mental instability by becoming the life of the party. And abdicating his role as a father.

As the years sped by, so did his drug use; continuing the revolving door of incarceration. Though he had many close friends who encouraged him to go back to school, he couldn’t let go of his sadness and move forward. When they started graduating from university, getting married, buying a house, and having children, the truth of his choices became glaringly obvious; however, the drugs roared louder.

We all encouraged him to seek help for his depression, instead, he pushed his pain and dreams into one more shot. The ache of loneliness over the death of his father, along with his fear of following a simpler path pushed behind the barbed wire of his mind, temporarily assuaged by the needle; became his dividing line. The temptation to use one more time, a last ditch attempt to fill the chasm of depression, finally closed the door to what could have been.

But the real story of who he was deep inside was known only to us, his family. From an early age, he grappled with anxiety and depression, though he was the class clown in school. I made sure I was home afternoons, holidays, and summers, and encouraged his love of reading. He spent many hours lost in the world of Harry Potter among other fantasy titles as he grew up, and countless books about history. He knew every statistic about every professional sports team; wrote clever sports stories, but never published. Though he was urged to. Step out and see, we’d say. His beautiful brown eyes and sweet smile energized a room like a power surge of optimism. He met no strangers and never complained, even in the depths of his addiction. His friends uplifted by his charisma and wit never knew he buried his dreams within. He was made for more, but he couldn’t see it. He sat his sadness through humor, masking his pain, and sealing his fate.

He lent his light to those who took but never gave.  His heart whispered, urging him to own his voice, his desires, instead of the agonized clanging rush hour of do. The beam of his truth flashing briefly then vanquished to the tightrope of doubt and confusion. Out, Out brief candle, life is a fleeting shadow of choice. My son chose to anesthetize his hurt, but his real story remains. He is kind. He is love.

I wish I would have talked to him more about his depression and anxiety, maybe one more time could have altered the course of his life. But I can’t turn back the hands of time, I can only offer his story in hopes someone will seek help, or know they’re not alone.

So, for now, I turn inward and feel the rain that comes to me in my nightly dreams, darkening its silent waste around me. I fold into my grief. My amputated heart throbbing with the weight of memories. The mirror tells my story of the unimaginable – the loss of my firstborn son.  I am a stranger to my own reflection. My hair white overnight. The anchor of despondency pushing me to the floor, supine; where I gladly want to remain.

I know I must get on with life, my other children and grandchildren need me strong; so I rise and wobble on wooden legs like a puppet floundering for the stage floor. I am no actor nor puppet, but a mother carrying deserted lanes of pain. In silence. The well-wishers gone. The weight of my sadness highlighting their unspoken fear that somehow my loss is contagious. Though by not talking about mental illness and drug abuse, we remain in the comfortable illusion that all is well; while the hurting sons and daughters continue to play Russian roulette, denying the fact the game is rigged. The game always wins, if played in secret.

I carry his smile, his voice, his dreams. He enriches my life, though I will never be the same. Nothing is as it was. His story teaches me to be kinder, gentler; fearless to be honest about mental illness, and the counterfeit high of drugs that offer everything, but delivers nothing.

Life has put me on a path that I never chose nor wanted. To honor my son, my lacerated heart must forge a new trail of living.  Walking now with a limp, I press on.

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By Leslie Cappiello His death. Unexpected and sudden.

Featured, Poetry

by Brandi
What happened along the way
Now you use every day
Sell your soul to get your high
While your life passes you by

I think what can I do to try
To help you see before you die
The girl that I used to know
Is hiding with no where to go

I pray she finds her way back
And fights the addiction from attack
The devil puppeteering her strings
Making her sick with everything he brings

All I want for her to see
Is that she has a friend in me
I will be there when she asks
For a friend to take on the task

Loving her for who she can be
Hoping she can be set free
From the reign of this disease
That brings you down to your knees

I am here for when you choose
You’ve got nothing left to lose
Find your way to being clean
And see the life you haven’t seen.

You deserve sobriety
You also have a friend in me
I hope that you can find your way
And have a future of brighter days

Because you deserve the very best
Your soul deserves a well earned rest.
I love you for eternity
I want back the girl you used to be.

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by Brandi What happened along the way Now you