November 22, 2009
Research Poem
His Addiction
“The sky was gold. It was rose. I was
taking sips of it through my nose.”
“Semi-Charmed Life” -Third Eye Blind
A carefree junkie. Always holding.
Wild and spontaneous. Spun into control.
Filling the space. An intense stimulant.
Crystal Meth needs. Dreams fulfilled.
From friends to between the sheets.
Losing room keys in the sand.
Sex in the fitting room, crazy.
Adrenaline relationship.
Late night phone calls and last minute
decisions. Trips to North Carolina.
I-95 at midnight. Dipping dollars in the bag,
coating their rims with white gold.
Takes the hit he was given.
And he bumped up.
A huge rush. Euphoria. Endless dreams.
Never-beginning sleep. Hallucinations.
Blending clouds of colors. Pink and blue
make purple. Obsessively horny.
Sudden slip into paranoia. Giggle attacks
and tickle matches. Avoiding invisible cops.
Pretending it’s just a game. Hiding
from his girlfriend. Falling asleep in closets.
Gliding on a high. Heavenly addiction.
Closer to a wonderful disease.
Outstanding physical condition.
Only 25 a day for half a gram.
Hydro or glass?
Laundry detergent and lighter fluid.
Precise explosive mixture resulting
in green poodles and weight loss.
Methamphetamine induced feelings
lift him up until he breaks.
Exhilarating decline onto the other side.
Snort. Smoke. Inject. Swallow.
Another hit.
He bumps up.
A flip, then a cascade away from
himself. He says he’s in love
and wants to be a better man. Stories
of rehab redeeming success clouds
his mind and pushes him into a sober
statue with winter white walls.
He forgets wild mood swings.
Tina, Krank, Tweak, and Ice
disappear from his once unpredictable
life. A good job and clean haircut
takes center stage, and new act begins.
His potential blooms,
and my heart sinks.
