Noise

it’s interesting to notice

the difference in how things sound

the way words bounce off walls

the way they ring in your ears

I know the way addiction sounds

I’ve written line after line 

I’ve assembled strings of words

describing how it feels to be bound  

the sound can be almost deafening

and some days it all goes black

the edges sharp and jagged

scraping against the skin

in the rivulets of pain

that flow from open wounds

streaming sanguine rivers

that simply trickle away

silence screams louder

than any sound ever could

through pacing and internal combustion

and skin that doesn’t fit

I’ve run so far and so fast

to keep the sounds at bay

I’ve run so long that I’ve forgotten

what the voices need to say

yesterday the words

came in short and fast clips

broken sentences abbreviated

language, a foreign thing

tears fueled by anger

by frustration, pain, angst

and the orchestra of cacophony

sang a song I know so well

the overwhelming feeling

of being sick of myself

ran like a loop through my mind

for the entire length of the day

short reprieves in love

and the kindness of strangers, now friends

softened the edges just enough

so the clock continued to move

digging deep into the muck

to climb up out of the mire

begging into the vast unknown

that I see what I need to see

with eyes swollen and burning

with a heart bleeding out on the floor

my knees becoming calloused

from humbling myself here

I am fighting for my life, it seems

a war I cannot lose

with an urgency the battles rage

my will screams in pain

with every victory, white flags wave

in the quiet aftermath

and I revel in the awe of the silence

and how different the calm sounds

dis~honest

things that cling and stick to me

things I cannot shake.

the tremors that leave me stumbling

unable to walk straight lines.

it is not in the light of day

that I struggle to connect the dots.

it is when the shadows fall down low

that I fall between the cracks.

it is in the corners and crevices

that I have learned to hide.

like a spider that skips away

from the edge of the sweeping broom.

under the legs of tables

or that ever rocking chair.

weaving a web of intricate lines

that never reveal their truth.

last night in a dream

I saw rows of bottles lined up on the floor.

and no one in the room

would ask what they were for.

avoidance was the underlying

metaphor of the dream.

again back to the premise

of hiding it all away.

perched in this corner here in my web

catching unwitting prey.

walking, obliviously close

to a dangerous place to be.

unseen evil a present threat

honesty has slipped through the cracks.

I’m even lying to myself now

in this wickedly scripted play.

The Addict's Game

flashing past me at the speed of sound

lights flicker, pulse pumping veins.

breath quick, heart beats, mind spins

I can’t quite make sense of anything.

it’s been like this for days

something spinning.

whirling, twirling,

I cannot pin it down.

I feel like I am high

 and drifting wildly.

fearful I will not

find my way back down.

nervous edges might be the cause

fear of what’s to come.

knowing that change

in necessary again.

but my focus has shifted wickedly

I’m unsettled deep within.

and maybe that’s not the best time

to move forward again.

I feel like I’m running away from something

instead of running to.

and the recklessness of that

 is giving me fits.

uncontrolled terror

is now keeping me awake.

the addict fiendishly coveting

something warm.

something that seeps into the blood

and scares away all of the demons.

something transparent that creates

the illusion of strength.

something that distracts me from the ghosts

but also steals my ability to think.

with focus unattainable

that now becomes the course.

and the place where I must

engage my every thought.

this is the circle that I spin

with precision and expertise.

exchange one for the other

when it all becomes too much.