Addiction

Shame comes with it...

I am an addict. My addiction is to tobacco. Not nicotine as much as the tobacco itself. Those vapor pens don't do it for me. They might ease the pains of the nicotine withdrawal but I find that it doesn't satisfy the taste. It's a horrible taste. Why would I want that? It's a strange thing. I believe my attachment has to do with the fact that I use them to sort of ground myself. This is absurd considering my knowledge that there are a whole lot of healthy ways one could do so. Maybe in my mind I have it as sharing in the suffering of the earth. Which I do suffer the earths pains. It happens in the visions that move through me. I don't know how to explain the kind of suffering that I experience. I am working to cleanse my spirit from past negative experiences. This is not an easy task. No, this is a diving deep within. And the funny thing about it is, I use my breath to do the cleanse. So why would I want to fog it all up again? Just after going through those visions.

 

As I lay down to do this breath-work meditation I am always amazed at it's movement of energy throughout my body. Yesterday as I breathed, my whole body started shaking from head to toe like uncontrollable shivers. I welcomed this experience as I could feel the light cleansing my spirit of the visions that were coming in. With this as the darker visions passed, wonderful things of childlike experience came into the scene. Even in my outside world as words spoken from the other room. “Do you remember carousels when you were a kid?” Yes. This was the kind of world we'd like to see.

One where there is magic and fairytale fun. Not all this homogenizing into some suit cut world of false profit and greed. No, can you imagine how fun it could be if we just brought joy to every scene?

 

Now of course, we know that there would be some suffering still. Because people get injured sometimes. What would a world be without injury? Scars. We all have them whether physical or emotional or spiritual. I have scars. Many of them. I've been trying to find the actual roots. It's just that roots are kinda similar to the top part of the tree. They branch out. So I keep digging down and around. Trying to cleanse each one and recognize how strong we became because we made it through the fight and we grew.

 

Now I know my addiction roots into childhood as I was a teenager when I made that choice to use tobacco. I used it, I believe, as a way to fit in. To be cool. Because at my younger years, in elementary school, I suffered shaming. We were poor. I was shy. They hurt my feelings, I would cry. We moved on to middle school. In a different town, I had a new chance. Here I started to make more friends but I still got bullied a few times. Once, a couple of girls followed me home and spit in my hair. I never did understand why. There was nothing I'd ever done or said to them to be mean. I think they did it to see if I'd stand up for myself. I don't think I did. I don't remember. Anyway, high school came. And one day we were hiding behind the library and somehow tobacco came into the scene. I don't recall whose idea it was. I just know, I did it. But I didn't inhale...

 

High school, I stood by the wall, with a cigarette in hand. I thought I was cool. With my hair teased up and my high heeled boots. I overheard some girls down the way saying something about me not inhaling and to watch. So in that moment I decided to prove them wrong. I inhaled and I didn't cough.

 

From then on, I was a smoker. Attached to them. My girlfriends and I used to call them gum. It was cheap. They were a buck ten. Doable for teenagers without jobs. If we had to, we would scrounge the floor in my friends messy bedroom for change when we ran out. Then we'd go to the store and pick up a new pack. I became a Marlboro light girl, with my jean jacket and a job riding a horse. Oh, I was cool.

 

So, okay, now we can see how I got attached to being cool, right? I suppose what I found, as I continued to be a smoker into adulthood, was that cigarettes are like an icebreaker to start talking to other people. Smokers find each other. Got a light? Any chance you could spare a cigarette? It's a huddle in the rain and there's only that one spot a person could smoke. I've had many interesting conversations with folks over a cigarette. But oh my, why? Why the attachment? I've had many a wonderful conversation with folks without a cigarette being the reason. And geez. Sometimes it's just embarrassing to be a smoker.

 

At this stage, I feel tobacco is a powerful substance and if I had known it's sacred medicine, perhaps I would not have misused it from such a young age. But I do not know if this is true either. As here I am, an adult, who had quit using tobacco for 8 years, who decided to dabble with them and slipped the slippery slope back in to her addiction. The stranger thing about this is that it was foreseen in visions.

 

So now, here, in this moment of writing this, I've written myself into wanting to indulge in tobacco. So I take the laptop outside so I can have one by my side. I am guilty. I know this is not healthy. But I'm allowing myself to do it anyway. Perhaps it's in anticipation of my final quitting. Tobacco spirit is very powerful.

 

My story gets weird.

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

...to be continued

 

 This was a freewrite. Only spellchecked.

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I Manipulate By jfarrell

I Manipulate

By jfarrell

 

(“From the cover of Heaven’s gate, I manipulate” great lyrics from steve taylor)

 

Rasputin is me, I am Rasputin;

I tell you my story, show you my scars

I share my pain with you

And you will jump to my defence

Jump between me and the bullet

Take the sword thrust,

In my stead.

 

I frown and lower my gaze

I show you the pieces of my sundered heart

Let you hold and feel this dead thing that is my soul

Let you dance in the dust that was my dreams

And you give your heart to me

In tender whispers you pledge your undying love

To me.

 

Amongst tears, with nastiness running from my nose

I tell you of the wrongs done to me

I tell you of those that hurt and ridiculed me

To show the truth, the strength, of my pain

I take the knife and slash my arm, over and over

My pain angers you to kill,

For me.

 

Rasputin is me, I am Rasputin

A manipulative, conniving…. monk

Dead many years (executed, I think);

I want you to like me

I’ll say anything you wanna hear.

To keep you here

I manipulate

Author's Notes/Comments: 

this is about me, not christians.... just loved steve taylor's song "I Manipuate", great song, great title

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Relapse

I've come to the realisation:

Depression is like an addiction,

Always the chance of relapse.

It would be so easy, perhaps.

 

So easy to fall back into old routines:

Anxiety and the influence of fiends;

The familiar melancholy, just one sip;

Surrender to the incessant drip, drip, drip.

 

Existence is a losing battle,

Watching people slaughtered like cattle.

To lose one's faith - to lose resilience

Would be surrender to life's persistence.

Other Side

your life isn't some jacket

that used to fit so well

when you live like that

your mind becomes your hell

and no angel

on your shoulder

can save you from its depth

and the demons

in your stomach

keep tying knots

to catch your neck

 

just stop.

 

there's no personal record

for you to wreck

your health is fading

eyes are closing

your heart's become a mess

and jesus

can't save you

(and neither can meth)

the only thing at the end

is a slow, personal death

you don't greet it like a friend

you fight it like a fiend

you wrote the story of your life

but it's got no theme

no meaning

(it's a bad portrayal

of yourself)

you couldn't see 'you'

clearly

you were way to busy

dealing

with the suffering

and agony

you brought upon yourself

you gathered it up and saved it

built an altar and you praised it

A religion built from grief

that you mostly fabricated

 

just stop.

 

you can't keep fighting wars

in a mind

that's been plagued with 'em

you can't keep breaking hearts

with a heart

that's not made for it

you think the story you write

is so great

but you got played for it

the truth is in your eyes:

you're dying for the game of it

 

it's just another lie 

that you wanna stay alive

you don't care

about yourself

whether you live or die

and that's hateful

god, it's just painful

to watch you beat yourself up

to call people to save you from it

from yourself

 

just stop!

 

you don't see the people

soldiering up to fight your war

you don't see clearly

how dearly they're paying for

all the mistakes you keep

agonizing over

it's shameful!

you're selfish and prone to drama

it's disdainful!

and the one's who love you

are willing to die

just to give you another day

where you can figure it out and try

just so you can make it out alive

smiling bright on the other side, like,

"I made it!"

you ingrate, that shit was paved for you

ever loss of blood was a brick they laid for you

to build

a path across the void

(the one you cling to in your mind)

 

just stop

 

and you'll come out on the other side.

 

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The River

 

you thought you could get away

with all your grimy sins

perhaps you thought there's no god

perhaps you think there is

either way

it's a lone, cold fall

and the river is just a mouth

she opens wide

she's selling secrets inside

are you willing to pay the price?

 

put you back to the wall my brother

put your back to the wall my friend

put you face to the river

she opens wide to let you in

every damn day is a long damn day

but the river has no fears

whether she eats

today or tomorrow

or fasts for a hundred years

 

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Re-Recovery

I no longer yearn for the yearn of another.
Today, nothing has changed but the date of a page.
Tomorrow will be as promising.
A week from now, the universe might invite me out.
I have tried.
I have tried to compose a confident reply,
I have tried.
Perhaps I’ll have extended time.
Perhaps in a fortnight, I’ll reply.
I no longer yearn for the yearn of another.
Today, I’ve witnessed nothing new but the arrival of noon.
Tomorrow will be as fulfilling.
A month from now, the universe might ponder where I’ve been.
I have tried.
I have tried to compose a viable lie,
I have lied.
Perhaps I’ll discover the time to apologize before I die.
Perhaps I’ll discover the time to die.
I no longer yearn for the yearn of another.
I only contemplate the use in having recovered.
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I lost her

 

I yearn for you,

But we're, sitting in silence and im just trying to catch a word of your thoughts,

Are you thinking about me?

Do you even still think about me?

Brutal heartbreak, how much can one heart take,

You sleep naked infront of me and my eyes search your body for the scars that I left,

I want to, be inside of you and heal you from within,

I want to,

I want to bend you over and,

I want to, but,

I am not your enemy,

I am not your friend,

I'm everything I couldn't be for you,

And everything that I'm not, within.

 
Author's Notes/Comments: 

Forever my Taco

One Day At A Time.

Loving you is like tying my stomach in knots just to connect a few dots

Loving you is like asking the robin that thinks it's a blue bird to remember it's a robin, and it's laid an egg.

You laid an egg!

Or, rather you helped procure one.


You're here now. Remember?

You're back on this plane(t) of rock hard existence

Where you know only shame


How's that working out for you, so far?


You see... Loving you is like picking up each piece of plaster in a disaster and [then] asking it to stop crumbling

Could you please just stop crumbling. FUCK.

I can't take it anymore with the decay.

Put your self back together.


Loving you is like losing a piece of time, in the grand scheme of all things,

and then setting expectations for when this will all come back into frame.

When will this all come back in to focus?

When will this all come back?

Will this all come back?


Loving you has been like the most gut wrenching ride, I've ever felt in my life.

It's like a constant influx of hellos, and a steady stream of goodbyes.

Loving you is like holding onto a stream, where you can see it flow through, passed you,

but there's nothing stealthy enough to hold you.

Besides, why would I?


What would be the point in building a damn to stop your flow?

I mean-- like-- GATDAMN can he flow! The world doesn't even know.

But, I do. I know what you can do, because I've been wrapped up in you,

and I've let every aspect of me cave into all the cavenous pits you've created wthin

...and here we are.


We're back in your pit of shame and despair, and I don't have time.

I can't fucking be here.

I have things to do...

A baby to take care of--

and you...

 

Loving you is doing everything I can to not be bitter.

Loving you is remembering that all I wanted was for you to live to be the man he needs you to be.

Loving you means knowing I still have to love me.

 

Staying or Going

 

 

 

"Staying or Going"

Staying or going which one should I choose?

 

Who’s pulling the strings today, the drugs or the booze?

 

Promises, promises they’re nothing but lies.

 

I see the real truth when I look in your eyes.

 

Sometimes you glare at me with such distain.

 

Sometimes I see only heartache and pain.

 

I forgive and forgive and try hard to forget.

 

You call yourself “scumbag” and are full of regret.

 

I beg and I plead and I cry endless tears,

 

But I’m not the one who must face all your fears.

 

I’m scared and I’m numb and I feel so broken.

 

You run and you hide and leave words unspoken.

 

Left all alone I fall down on my knees.

 

I call out to God to come help us please.

 

This battle is yours, it comes from inside.

 

I can’t fight it for you, although I have tried.

 

Staying or going which one should I choose?

 

Either decision I make I feel like I loose.

 

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