HEROIN

I sit with a notebook, ask for guidance, pick up my pen, and start writing.

HEROIN

So now Mr. Man you have grown tired of grass,

LSD, Acid, Cocaine, Pills, Meth and Hash.

And someone pretending to be a true friend

Said, “Ill introduce you to my best friend, Heroin.”

Well honey, before you start fooling with me,

Just let me inform you of how it will be.

For I will seduce you and make you my slave.

I’ve sent men much stronger than you to their grave.

You think you could never become a disgrace

And end up addicted to poppy seed waste.

So, you’ll start inhaling me one afternoon,

You’ll take me into your arms – very soon.

And once I have entered deep in your veins,

The cravings will nearly drive you insane.

You’ll need LOTS of money (as you have been told)

For darling, I’m much more expensive than silver or gold.

You’ll swindle your mama just for a buck,

You’ll turn into something vile and corrupt.

You’ll mug, and you’ll steal for my narcotic charm,

And feel contentment when I’m in your arm.

The day you realize the monster you have grown,

You’ll solemnly promise to leave me alone.

If you think that you’ve got the mystical knack,

Then sweetie just try getting me off your back.

The vomit, the cramps, your gut tied in knots,

The jangling nerve screaming for just ONE more shot,

The hot chills, the cold sweat, the withdraw pains,

Can only be saved by my little white grains.

There’s no other way, and there’s no need to look;

For deep down inside, you will know you are hooked.

You’ll desperately run to the dealer and then,

You’ll welcome me back into your arm once again.

And when you return (just as I foretold!)

I know you’ll give me your body and soul.

You’ll give up your morals, your conscience, your heart

AND you will be mine, until death do us part.

Mastro Geppetto

In 2010 you came back into my life

Bring me nothin’ but trouble a strife.

Caused me,

Pain.

Made.

Me.

Cry.

 

Even when I fell ill and,

Thought.

I.

Would.

Die.

From hospital bed,

Doctor to doctor,

Pillar to post.

But where were you?

The.

Cure.

I.

Wanted.

Most?

 

Oh.

That’s right.

Down in the trailer park,

Smoking.

You.

Some.

Dope.

 

I had to ask myself,

Where did the answer lay?

Eventually, I found it,

A new doctor,

I.

Call.

Dr.

Die.

 

It was a battle,

Loss or gain,

AND hear me friends,

I.

Gave.

It.

Everything.

 

After eight long years,

A lot of heartache and,

FAR too many tears.

I started to win the battle of,

Getting out the door.

With each day,

I was doing it more.

 

But there were still many things,

I could not do alone.

 

AND fake friends exposed

ALL week long.

 

I had to lean on my brother whom,

Keeps me

Anchored.

Like.

A.

Stone.

 

AND you act like my brother and I

know nothin’ about this…?

But we know enough.

We know what it has done to you.

 

 

You think The Warden somehow missed,

I was the one ONCE

Strung.

Out.

On.

Meth?

 

My brother knows exactly,

What YOU

Have.

Done.

To.

Us.

 

You’re no longer a real Just a,

Body.

On.

The.

String.

 

Every single move you make.

Is.

Controlled.

By.

Methamphetamine.

 

I have the impression,

I can’t help you,

Can’t break you away.

I’ve tried to cut the strings,

So you could fly,

Far.

Far.

And.

Away.

 

But without this attachment

At the Trailer Park,

Your so-called support system,

Waiting for you in the hood.

Your body goes limp and,

Collapses.

To.

The.

Floor.

 

And, every time,

We lift you up.

You fall again,

We been carrying your

Dead.

Weight.

All.

Around.

 

Ungrateful and,

Unappreciative of,

Everything we ever did,

Your only answer is to see,

Who you can fuck over first…?

 

False calls to Crime Stoppers,

So, you can make a dollar?

Equally bogus calls to DCF,

Yet expect us to,

Pay YOUR bills

So YOU can benefit?

 

You need to hear me,

Mr. Man –

You.

Got.

Me.

FUCKED-Up.

This time,

We drew lines,

Deep.

In.

The.

Dirt.

Left you laying where you are.

We won’t pull you safely,

So you can be found.

 

After all,

Look at you.

You’re just a,

Puppet.

On.

The.

String.

 

AND I finally figured it out,

I can’t do this anymore!

You have to let me go so,

I can walk out this door.

 

See,

I have been entrapped,

Under lock and key with,

With warped definition of love that,

Pushes.

Me.

To.

Insanity.

 

Step aside,

 

Let me through,

 

 

My heart and family,

Have taken enough,

 Of your,

Lies.

Neglect.

And.

Abuse.

 

You have become someone,

I don’t want to know.

You left me no choice now,

I.

Really.

Must.

Go.

 

Maybe this time

You can make “okay”,

In your bro’mance with Jay,

 

Or with Stewie

AND Mark

While you help drink,

And smoke

Their.

Crazy.

Checks.

Away.

 

After all free-rides,

Don’t come along, every day.

 

Move on to whatever,

The string calls you back again,

The puppet master dope boy,

Comes a knockin’,

At.

The.

Door.

Again.

 

 

Spend your nights attempting to,

Burn the past away –

While everything you loved has,

Melted away.

 

Your new life has taken,

What was once your “normal” place.

And tomorrow you simply,

Can’t.

Fix.

This.

Mistake.

 

 

You have a million reasons,

Always an excuse.

Why you can’t lay down,

drinking and dope.

And most of all its,

Precious.

Time.

You.

Abuse.

 

So, dance on puppet,

Nothin’ more I will do.

Wait for your master he,

Has.

Plans.

For.

You.

 

Recovery does not mean you have to be miserable.

Addiction does.

Recovery does not mean you cannot have fun.

Addiction does.

Recovery does not turn you into a liar or a thief.

Addiction does.

Recovery does not make false promises.

Addiction does.

Recovery does not center on abusive relationships.

Addiction does.

Recovery does not strengthen through fear and anger.

Addiction does.

Recovery does not isolate.

Addiction does.

Recovery does not encourage risky behaviors.

Addiction does.

Recovery does not eat away at your soul.

Addiction does.

Recovery does not leave you morally, financially, emotionally, and spiritually bankrupt.

Addiction does.

Addiction does not give you a second chance.

RECOVERY DOES.

~The Rooms

Whiskey in one hand and that stench of cocaine on your breath, you beg for me to put your temper to the test…? You slap me around and call me names. I’m sick to death of playing your fucking games.

One day it’s going to end up getting worse. It hurts me how you yell at me and curse. Stop it, before it’s too late. Can’t you see this is no longer my fate.

I used to care. I used to be there. Now, you’ve gone away. So, please stop this today, these bruises and hits and temperamental fits. All is causing me ache. Yet, I’m not the one to blame.

You’re drinking away what’s left of you, it’s hurting me, and you’re hurting me, too. I’ve cried, I’ve begged. What more can I do? I’ve tried to help and I’ve tried to still love you.

It’s hard when I’m only neglected and abused when all I ever wanted was to be, accepted by you. I know I’m not perfect, but look at you now. You have got to stop this ALL somehow.

You’ve beaten me down once more, my heart’s broken, and I’m lying on the floor. How much more of this can I take? Please God, give me a fucking break!

You brought me into this life of your drugs. And you cause me all this conflict. Are you going to take me out of this world, too? Please! Stop! Before that really comes true.

I’ve looked upon your face. Seen the sadness in your eyes. The battle of addiction, you no longer can disguise.

I’ve prayed to find the answers, of what I myself must do. I’ve prayed for the strength to fight, through the hell that you put me through.

I’ve held on for so long, but I can no longer watch you die. I cannot fight this for you, but lords knows how I’ve tried.

It’s just so hard to watch the ones you love, slowly slipping away. That’s why I just try to block it out, and hold on to yesterday.

I don’t have all the answers, or the power to save your soul. You’re broken, lost and lonely.

I cannot make you whole.

I never asked you to be my dad,

To slap me around and treat me bad.

I never asked you to drink alcohol,

I never asked for anything at all.

I never asked for the hurt and pain,

Or for the nights that were half insane.

I never asked for fights that were wild,

Or to grow up a bewildered child.

I never asked you to beat up my mom,

Or for a blanket to help keep me warm.

I never asked you to leave me alone,

Or to grow up in a broken-down home.

I never asked for this horrible life,

Or for the conflicts, the quarrels and strife.

I never once asked that I be defiled,

Or to grow up a bewildered child.

I never asked to be raised in a prison,

Or to see darkness though the sun had risen.

I never asked you to raise Holy Hell,

Or for my bedroom to be like a jail cell.

I never asked to be used and abused,

Or to sit in my room dazed and confused.

I never asked for the crap that has piled,

Or to grow up a bewildered child.

I never asked for a brand-new bike,

Or for any toys that I used to like.

I never asked you to throw me a ball,

Or for the bruises when I took a “fall”.

I never asked once but I’m asking you now,

I hope you make me understand somehow.

How you could treat me so fucking bad,

I never asked you to be my dad.

Why Women Cry. Watch her eyes 

A little boy asked his mother, “Why are you crying?” “Because I’m a woman,” she told him. I don’t understand,” he said. His Mom just hugged him and said, “And you never will.”

Later the little boy asked his father, “Why does mother seem to cry for no reason?” All women cry for no reason,” was all his dad could say.

The little boy grew up and became a man, still wondering why women cry. Finally he put in a call to God. When God got on the telephone, he asked, “God, why do women cry so easily?”

God said: “When I made the woman she had to be special.

I made her shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world, yet gentle enough to give comfort.

I gave her an inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection that many times comes from her children.

I gave her a hardness that allows her to keep going when everyone else gives up, and take care of her family through sickness and weariness without complaining.

I gave her the sensitivity to love her children under any and all circumstances, even when her child has hurt her very badly.

I gave her strength to carry her husband through his faults and fashioned her from his rib to protect his heart.

I gave her wisdom to know that a good husband never hurts his wife, but sometimes tests her strengths and her resolve to stand beside him unfaltering.

And finally, I gave her a tear to shed. This is hers exclusively to use whenever it is needed.”

“You see my son,” said God, “the beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair.

The beauty of a woman must be seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart – the place where love resides.”

 

Love Changed Me

My family is more important than wealth and privilege and gold – it cannot be bought or traded or sold.

My love knows NO law, NO pity, NO fear, it dares all things and crushes down mercilessly and relentlessly ALL that stands in its path.

My love gets messy, mean, sometimes it even draws blood. It clings and gets maddening with repetitive patterns, like horrendously bad wall-paper in a room the color of, “No one wants to chill here, man…”

I argue, I fight, even stop talking to ALL of them at once. However, until the end of my days, the love is still always there – flawless, raw, and faultless.

Chosen and impeccable and absolutely, undefeated.

Because love changes people.

Love changed me.