Wednesday, July 6, 2011

He Was Me

Sweet wicked tickets to ride had devoured,
A soul, his pride and his heart died.

From all the fumbling and endless juggling
Between sheets with no known names.

Except for the pet names of sweetheart and baby,
Mere cover ups in a crazy masquerade .

Wearing the hats of son, father, lover and worker,
Player, jug buddy and zip-damn fool.

Wears a person down and out them knocks him silly,
Enable to see right from wrong mostly.

Twisted values and moral reductions only added more
Then fuel to the engine that could and he did it.

Every chance he could with whoever,whenever and often,
Despite a possible violent end, death meant nothing.

Hell, he survived death before and almost died at birth.
Childhood abandonment and abuse validated his every move.

While his insides screamed,"kill me, let me die, do it now,
I don't deserve to live this life anymore, have at it".

Anger was the tool that turned each bolt or screw then charm
Unlocked many and every door, each phantom chasity belt.

Not many heard his childish cries,"Oh love me for who I am,
Don't leave, please stay", but who could, he always strayed.

The booze didn't help and the drugs made him a zombie,a maddog.
It took decades before the bottom really fell out the box.

God always comes on time and on that day he became a better man,
And wanted to change his life, his heart his style .


cynport247 said...

What a strong poem! It reflects an addicts life to perfection.