addiction, alternative, free verse, independent, literature, Uncategorized

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A stranger stranded in the mist.

Figures blur unintelligible words,

Ghosts in the shadow of my hometown.

The form of a beautiful naked woman,

Glowing like moonlight reflected off a still northern lake.

The more I walk, the longer the road stretches on like a river of midnight oil.

 

Distant voices call my name in the night, awake, alone.

Seeing through the disguise adopted to keep from sliding down the slippery slope, of lonesome, drugs, depression and death.

Disguise of society, the selling of the soul

Long before the en…end? Is that what I meant?

Long before the legal age of consent.

 

One more product, semi-efficient,

Ignorant, stupid and loyal to the system.

Or maladjusted young adult trying to find meaning in an unforgiving world, scars, SSRIs12 step programs, graduate high school,

College diploma and regular Jesus doses.

Financially fettered, fed lies by the system then fed truths into their shredder.

 

Addict/dependent.

Maybe there is no difference. Chemically enslaved.

At least with pain pills there’s a satisfying high.

These sertraline capsules just keep the prescriptions filling

To keep the insanity, true insanity, of SSRI withdrawal, at bay a little longer. We all have our vices, why this too?

Too much too young, chemical changes in the brain.

Anxiety, panic disorder, knives, flagged vein, walls drip with my own blood.

 

Desire something enough

And it’s worth the pain of attempting it,

Even worth the pain of failure.

 

-Jack Blare, Silver Chain (2016)

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