Time addicted

A poem I originally wrote for Recovery month of September 2023, which deserves words and celebration. I reflect on my own experiences which battered me, until I was made a warrior, strength came to me through the unlikely source of suffering and sadness, which I kept having to endure.

An amusing picture pointing out a disturbing potential reality. That just as humans as a species are susceptible to ‘fuck ups’ and errors in decision making, so bad that we might well have to resort to the ‘rewind’ button, to undo the mess of ourselves we have made during evolution. Stemming only from the root drive to survive… So too stems the same primitive instinct of seeking relief and survival, through which addiction itself of woven into existence.

Passing more than just ‘the time’, the drugs pass right through you, in the end, obscuring your identity- The mirror cannot reflect your true form, undisguised, as mirrors generally used to do. The substances stain the reflection of your own face… No one can underestimate how hard it is to reclaim your ‘self/soul’ after the narcotics have invaded the space of you

Time Addicted

It took time to finally realise
How it wasn’t in the drugs so much
As my addiction was truly about chasing my demise

I blamed the narcotics, etched with agony
Into every corner of my mind
Picturing so easily, the powders and rocks
The liquids and the embers
Smoke throttled my vision, until I was blind.

Like a curse, and a disease of wasting
Wasting time, wasting self, wasting away, wasted, as my head, never remembers

Until I came to think and learn
Like a breakthrough, from the embers,
It was never actually the substances which caused me to burn

The chase was about self harm,
It was all in the name of control I could capture,
A diverted mind, on a mission to punish
I fell in love towards perpetrating my own assault,
Death and decay became sweet divine rapture

‘It’s the fault of this, and the fault of that’, spoke the sickness, as it redirected reason,
All attention on the compounds
Which made me a twat

High on the fumes of my smouldering soul
Self loathing and sabotage served to fuel this like coal
Mining me, consuming me, typical, as the Function of this disease

Until finally, freedom spoke sense to me, Though I’ll never know how:

Proclaiming, in its own divine words
All this hurting will cease
When I averted my gaze
Ascending all that chaos and haze
My healing constantly proves to excite and amaze

Myself, most of all.
I’m the victor, and it’s my own call
It was never the drugs,
I’m the one in control
Recovery is defiance, Recovery is our teacher, The inner born leader, we enacted our power
Stopped dead in the tracks, came the end of reliance

I’m okay with the shock, this revealing of Truth- that my life after all, regardless of the Past, actually always had some worth, actually Always will have it too

I’ve felt unable to believe in this, since my arrival on Earth, yet suddenly, here I am, Speaking to you, if you look at me now you Would not have a clue

Time was spent, addicted, time was spent Afflicted

It’s still over today, still absent, now quiet, I’ll Fight to stay sober
Thank fuck, I say, for the relief from the riot.