H.O.W.
Everyone has a plan till life punches you in the jaw.
Come on y'all.
How many of us can say being wasted is still fun?
Not one.
When you boil it down we've beaten ourselves to the ground.
Almost six feet under.
But our spark cannot be torn asunder.
You've been where I've been.
Heard what I've heard.
Seen what I've seen.
Saw what I saw
Done did what I did.
What the Motherf**k?
A second ago I was a teenage kid.
From weed to cocaine to acid.
Twenty-nine years I
incessantly, obsessively, excessively I continued dig.
Now my second rehab in two months.
A Total of five in my lifetime.
I must have been out of my mind to O.D. on multiple occasions.
I'm alive. Facts. Strange & Amazing.
Still I kept going back to that dog food.
My heart screamed out in fury "Keep that s**t!".
But I was mentally, spiritually, & physically sick.
In the warm fuzzy, furry, flurry of synthetic warmth with blurry vision
I welcomed my old friend Oblivion.
Lost Transmission. Dark Intermission.
On another mission to hold Death's hand.
Over & Over & Over.
Again & Again & Again.
In my Jungian Shadow for so long.
Dawn after sleepless dawn.
For what seemed to me to be an eternity.
An answer to a seemingly simple question is what I seek...
...How?
How do I break free?
From insanity?
An insanity I bleed for in order to squeeze out a few drops of a simulacrum of comfort.
At a time when a synthesized simulation to hide the degradation of my life felt good enough.
Again I ask how?
And I ask further...
...What?
What is normality?
Finally, I'm starting to see.
However it's still foreign to me.
I now know who I am.
I'm not playing or messing.
It's a God-given blessing.
Self-belief, self-respect, self-love were once out of reach, painfully.
There was a time not long ago when any
endeavor for good or ill would feel like acts of futility.
I prayed that those whom preyed upon
me would pay a price equal to or greater than the prices they charged me.
I have a confession...
... I made my choices.
My faults lie within me.
There's no other possible way it can ever be.
Wouldn't be lovely if I could get back the cash half of the costs?
A third question...
...What have I lost?
Jobs, possessions,
interpersonal connections,
not being able to look
at my own reflection,
light & love.
Chests full of love.
What have I lost?
All of the above.
I'm getting it all back.
How ya like me now jack?
I'm pushing myself, more than a shove.
In the past sobriety & recovery didn't last.
Just as I broke through the surface to breathe,
she seductively tugged on my sleeve.
She's a super-sexy succubus.
Who can and will f**k every last one of us.
Grinding our flesh and bones to dust.
How ya like her now?
The realization took quite a while.
That bitch is straight trash.
I say it with a smile.
I implore you all to recall my first question
which I shall now answer with an acronym...
... H.O.W.
About this poem
I wrote this while in a rehabilitation center for use-disorder(substance abuse). Honestly Openness Willingness The rest speaks for itself.
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Written on October 25, 2023
Submitted by CourageousLittleKingBelovedByGod on December 05, 2023
- 3:19 min read
- 0 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | axbb xcc xxxad xdxxx exfg xhx bbb xcxxxh xI hhxx icxhhhxgg hhhxh bxhh x bJ ffxbkk Jkllk xxxexx imxm bxI |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 3,256 |
Words | 647 |
Stanzas | 20 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 3, 5, 5, 4, 3, 3, 6, 2, 4, 9, 5, 4, 1, 2, 6, 5, 6, 4, 3 |
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"H.O.W." Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 10 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/177662/h.o.w.>.
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