The Coast is Never Clear (Poem)

As I start the next chapter in my autobiography I praise the Good Lord for waking me up another day Free from the horrors of active addiction I have found a way to live and enjoy life… just for the day I thank God oh Lord for stickin and stayin Even in my darkest hour The hideous four horsemen were denied the boast of my obliteration Terror, bewilderment, frustration, despair The whistling winds of loneliness The burdens I couldn’t bear All have been arrested along with worry and fear I’m talking about a God who taught me how to sit up straight Get down on my knees and pray Quit whining and communicate

Pity Party (Poem)

I’m throwing a pity party And no one’s invited There will be no balloons And no excitement I don’t want to hear all the silly things you think I want to hear And don’t dare say, “It’s gonna be alright And you’re gonna be okay” I just wanna be left alone with my dark forboding thoughts Grandiose my obstacles Catastrophize my faults The whole world is full of morons And I’m done hearing all that noise I’m sick of waiting around for better days Or for truth to have a voice

Altered Perception (Poem)

The continuum of altered perception begins before we are born and ends only when we identify and interpret its existence The culture of shame in all its nuances is rival to all good senses So vested in in the continuum of inclusion and exclusion that few can escape the scope of its lenses So stuck in the clash of who’s better than who And the war of status And the fight for what’s true That we fail to address the problem at hand The elephant in the room standing up on its head Who can say they are better? As they compete in the battle of shame? Outcasting all who don’t fit in the crowd

Narcissists Anonymous

Wouldn’t it be hilarious to watch a bunch of narcissists get together to try to hash out their insanity? How would that even work? It would be a nonstop competition to see who could out conceive the rest into believe one person did each step better than the next. Matter fact…

. . . (Poem)

Someone snatched my body and took it for a ride  I was there But not really Your judgments don’t apply  It’s really hard to look back at the person I never was  It’s even harder to remember that place I went to take time off 

Life on Limited Terms (Poem)

Many of an addict has a story of the call to the streets The call of freedom to do as thou will and live life without restraint Or so it is thought Surrounded by world class liars who can’t afford honesty If you can’t lie your ass off to get what you want You got no game Trying on self-hating masks to people please your way up Can’t nobody tell you nothing You get what you want And want what ain’t cut

The Spark Within (Poem)

I can’t remember who I was before I forgot what life was all about Or maybe I never knew And that’s the reason I lost sight of who I was But that don’t matter here and now Cuz the girl I lost and never found Could’ve never known the holes I’ve dug Or how to fight her way back out You grow through what you go through And you go through what you need to find out who you really are As much as I hate the things I’ve done And I don’t wish my life on anyone I never would’ve lit the blaze If I hadn’t lost the spark within

Feelings got to go…

I been seeing a new psychiatrist/therapist and I been telling them what’s really going on in my membrane. I asked if I could get some shock therapy but they said it’s too early to discuss. Maybe if shock this thing out of me it will leave me alone…

A Life Worth Talking About (Poem)

Recovery means so many things depending on who you’re asking If you ask a limited person You’ll get self-limiting, judgemental thoughts But recovery knows no boundaries There’s no limit to who it can change Whether you’re in active addiction Or live a life that few can claim

Saboteur (Poem)

It’s scary how things can get so dark so fast A cave so deep that the darkness is blinding The longer you’re trapped the blinder you get Until you can’t remember what it was like to see Staggering around in anguish Struggling to latch onto a reason to live Nostalgia amounts to the type of affliction that decimates every last hope left within Until your corpse lives on right beside you Doing things you would have never did