I’m thinking about the one thing I shouldn’t.

Pleasure, a hurt heart, a torn soul.

A shamed body taken its toll.

Why you?

I’m glad it was, playful insults and all.

A facade it was, the real you I don’t know.

You never did those things you implied in your texts.

Never asked me to play who I was in your head.

What made me seek you out in the first place?

Why do my body and mind want you at my place?

I have another at my disposal, the one I am supposed to love.

But the thrill of you is so far above.

You selfish jerk.  I’m just an object.

It’s not your fault, you knew it was just a fix.

You fed on me when I was weak.

You never failed to call me every week.

“Where’s your man, babe?”

“Oh,  He’s gone still.”

“Then I’ll see you in an hour.”

I’m your favorite pill, you know you can’t resist me, you’ve let me know.

Come on, give in,  so I can just go.

I’ve got a game tomorrow.

Go easy on me babe.

Alright then, just lay there and say… one more, another, another?

Damn, you’re the best.

Don’t want this to be over.

Eventually I won’t think about you anymore.

Every morning I wake up with you in my head.

Like a TV stuck on a channel went dead.

Where’s the breaker, oh damn it’s broke.

I want you still like you’re my next toke.

It’ll fade, I know it will.

Like Alanis said, Jagged Little Pill.

You’re an easy one to swallow, but so hard to digest.

Make this go away, this ache in my chest.

I know it ain’t love, because I love another.

You’re just an addiction to add to my list, yes another.

This one’s got to go too, just like the rest.

Why is this pleasure so easy to discover?

Taken up residence, nearly impossible to resist.

It’s got to be kicked!

Kicked to the curb, just like I’ve been.

You won’t hesitate to forget about me,

but you’ll be back for more, you say.

I hope I don’t give in.

I know the right way,

but what I want is to feel you again.


Kicking It: a journal entry detoxing from opiates

I would give anything for a pain pill right about now, speaking both physically and
metaphorically… the pain is just too great.20131027_145643

I feel the heaviest weight on me; it is not easy to explain how it feels to have your life in front of you and you cannot push through or even see through to arrive at another day.

One might observe my life and wonder what on earth I have to be depressed about, my casualties could be so much worse.  But I suppose that is all relative considering each person holds their own level of tolerance.

Indeed that is true, which makes it even harder to endure because I want
to reach down inside myself and scream “What is wrong with you?

There is nothing to be in turmoil about, you are a blessed woman, now act like it!”

There is a tape that keeps playing in my head. I hate my life. Over and over. I hate myself. Over and over.

The screaming in my head just will not cease.

I want to pull the covers over my head until there is no light coming through. There is definitely no light in  my heart.

Every once in a while I turn on my computer
with some glimmer of hope that my dreams might come true. Subsequently, my past blocks the opening.

I feel broken and shut down. How can something that is no longer happening take precedence over the present and future?

Just because I used to be a junkie and a thief doesn’t
make me unable to have a future helping other junkies and thieves, who most likely really need to hear what I have to say.

It is possible now to be accredited academically and have little
or no common sense while proceeding to be a police officer, a probation officer, a victim’s advocate. This frustrates me.

I want to be all of these people because I don’t want to be me. I’m not even sure I know me.
People say I’m beautiful. I don’t see it. People tell me I’m smart. I don’t feel it.

The battle is in my mind. Part of me wants to go the gym and be pretty and healthy.

The other part of me wants to drink and pop pills. I can’t decide. Actually I can. I want to be healthy, but it’s just so hard to get there…I can see it, but it’s so far away.
The common denominator is false on both sides. I want to appear perfect on the outside as to somehow create an illusion of happiness, because I do smile when I feel pretty. Don’t we all?

However, being numb from intoxication is also an illusion because I can choose to no longer feel all of this.
So the bottom line is that I just can’t sit here and be content with myself.

I know it comes from the inside, but how do I fix my insides when I’m sick. So what do I do? Numb my insides or fix my outsides? I feel paralyzed and alone.

Why does self destruction sound so good, so intriguing?

The goal is not to be perfect, it is to be whole.

My Addiction

The devil’s inside me,

We’re taking one more ride.

Who’s in control?

He or I?

The light’s starting to dim.

Don’t feel sorry for me,

The destruction feels good.

It’s where I need to be.

You’re supposed to make me hate you.

Not feel good.

Dirty little liar,

I knew you would…

Keep beating me up,

You leave the worst bruises…

Only we can see

the marks from the nooses.

Medicate me,

then laugh while I squirm.

Mind over matter,

It’s almost my turn.

You tread on my pride,

You tear at my soul.

If I could  pry you off of me,

I could be in control.

Another medicated day,

and my faith decays.

Solace slips away

So much I’ve betrayed.

Just give me the drug.

so the pain falls away,

Another 24 hours to hold,

to embrace so it stays.

This grip I hold so tight,

on this false security.

Nothing the world  can see,

But the only thing worth keeping to me.