CRY FROM THE HEART

Only the sound of the early birds singing a morning song is heard, trying not to wake anyone else I opened my eyes and gently stirred, vacated my bed and tiptoed downstairs. Alone in the kitchen I began to prepare, my daily routine, I opened the blinds and absently stared, as the last of the night gave way to dawns early light, two magpies had started a fight, cawing at each other for the smallest mite, before one after the other they took off in flight. Then the realities of life brought me back to matters at hand, if you have never been hooked you may not understand, the power of addiction, whether planned or unplanned, affects a life till misery and fear go hand in hand. Sneaking around like mice in the dark, silent and quick, the reality stark. Secrets and lies trying to hide the obvious signs drawn in the lines, of your face, tell yourself that it is just rigours of age. Put on the kettle to make some tea, pull out the gear and the foil as quiet as can be, start to smoke and finish the tea making sure it is extra sweet, it helps the chemistry. Aim exhaling the smoke out of the window, the fishy strong odour is not allowed to linger, open the back door to freshen the air in the kitchen, the black pool on the foil catches the light and glistens. I throw up a prayer but nobody listens, another sequel, now I got visions, every day same old ism and schisms. 666 voices of twisted wisdoms. Stop, get help, look what you’re doing to yourself. Evil brown powder, exhale smoke, locked in your own private prison, no door to enter, why don’t I listen? Afraid to peer in a mirror, each day I am thinner, natural born sinner, omen on my shoulder, I should have been a, winner instead of a loser, its my choice try and confuse ya, conclusion. Sliding slipping gear has me tripping, wishing, I could go back to the beginning. Tears of pain softened by opium grains, stay in your lane, this drug can tame the wildest heart. Best not to start, not to be caught, in the brown downward spiral, take my words as serious as a bible.

4 Comments

  1. Oh Drew, I’m so sorry you got caught in this nightmare. Oddly enough, I find myself in the same situation, just for a different reason.

    I’m also dependent on opioids to function despite my pain. These days, with the rabid drug-war running amok, I’m terribly frightened about losing access to them and becoming bed-bound. Whether we take a legal or illegal opioids, we are not harming anyone else, so why are “they” trying to punish us for it? The world is going crazy, isn’t it?

    Perhaps we should move to Portugal, where they have a sane and sensible drug policy instead of the total insanity we have to live with.

    1. I hear you Z but it was a poem based on another time, my only problem is the crack, not being able to get enuff, lol. No seriously I smoke stone and at times spend a bit more than I should. I cant go back to the heroin days it was so so bad. I take subutex which is an opium blocker so if I have the odd bag when I am wired from the coke I am safe from it getting into my system. I understand your need for the opium and pray you get access for your needs. I use my experience of the past for my poetry cos I run out of up to date stuff. Bless you for you concern. Thanx for reading my stuff as well. I wish you well, always, Drew

      1. Whew, that’s a relief! You’ve written in the past how strongly you felt about staying away from opioids, so I’m glad you’re still free of that.

        But my reaction to the poem just goes to show the power of your writing, how it draws the reader right into the immediate reality of your thoughts – it feels like it’s happening as I read it.

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