Ugliness in Addiction and Recovery

If I could reach inside and rip out the pain that stops me in my tracks

I would do so and I let the ugliness drip off my fingertips,

because then I could choose to hold onto it,

or let it go, and watch it fall,

pull out the garden hose,

spray it into the soil,

until all around me I could see,

life is abundant, growing, and offers a peace,

a serenity.

The problem is sometimes addiction won’t allow a second chance,

we seem buried,

unable to get past the reality of our woes,

and even then, when we understand them,

we still fight for reasoning,

sometimes justifying,

this happened then, when, it was, because I wanted, it didn’t

really matter anymore to anyone.

I’ve been sitting in a chair today,

actually for days,

trying to get out,

but the vacuum hold is remarkable,

my body feels secure,

my mind is screaming,

as I look at the door, and realize,

it cannot stay open forever.

I wonder sometimes about real pain,

is it like this,

or is this just part of a visual game,

seems like I’ll never figure out a way to find the blockbuster,

instead, I’ll probably remain,

wishing purgatory could be

a safer place to be then I seem to realize.

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