An Addicts Poem: A selection of poems written through addiction and recovery.

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Then I see women and men of marvelous stature, romantic in the streets holding everyone and everything in high regards. Finding beauty in anything and anyone. Enjoying every second as if the rapture was over head eating exotic foods from unheard of countries and cultures. Bouncing to the sound of whimsical , reverb ricochets and sense stimulating music. Huffing inspiration to create something out of thin air. Dancing to retired jazz and swing albums as if no time had past since their conception. Wearing bold colors and patterns, thrifty leather shoes or suede. If you have any honour, I’ll strip it away, You’ll lose all your hope and forget how to pray, I’ll leave you in darkness, while blindly you stare, I’ll reduce you to nothing and won’t even care. Teenage mothers unsure of themselves, abandoned by their families for they believe that they brought fictional shame upon the family’s name. The fate of the child is unclear but the mother’s everlasting love shines through any obscurities in its way. Together, we'll continue to remember [Deceased's Name] as a kind, loving, and selfless person, and not let his struggles with addiction define his memory.

Those who strip themselves down and shred their own morals to scraps just to find themselves and to see their own limitations. It's a belonging you covetously latch onto in a desperate attempt to find any source of comfort, when you don’t even realise that it's only comforting because you’ve filled it up with everything you hate about yourself, every word you wish you never said, or thing you wish you never did. It's filled with every person you wish you never met and hurt you wish you never faced. Flip sided to those dizzying, tear jerking thoughts of suicide, annihilation of ones being, the contradictions of their faith in themselves and the people around them. Neil Steinberg: This is sort of a memory journey. Alcoholism is hereditary, partially genetic, so you get it and you know where it came from. So she’s remembering her mother and this terrible man that she was in love with. There’s this imagery of the suicide of the trout and the knife and the blood. She doesn’t have to say it, you just know it.The refused, the ones with hope but no money or scholarships; tread the streets with the echoes of electro house pulsing in their skulls. Striking beauty school students who are into making the people of this world a little bit more beautiful on the outside. I want to leave you with a quote that reminds me of [Deceased's Name]: "What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." - Ralph Waldo Emerson. And [Deceased's Name] had an incredible spirit within him, which we must cherish and keep in our hearts forever. I am recovering heroin addict, because I was stupid and trusted someone who was meant to love me, sometimes I

addiction is small puddles of water in the desert that lead to a mirage in the distance, you continue drinking, believing that you are being led to your salvation only to realize it has all been an illusion An addiction is something you may not even realise you’re addicted to because you haven’t let yourself get hungry enough to lust for it. It's always there. It's destroying you. Even the smell of your addiction gives you a sense of relief that you’re not alone, when in fact the smell is there to remind you that you are trapped in a state of your own mind.

Two weeks ago, my dad found my hand-me-down blades. I told him he did not need to worry because my addiction of the blades painting my canvas has been replaced to the deadliest addiction; loving a boy.

I’ll invade all your thoughts, I’ll take hostage of your soul, I’ll become your new master, in total control. I’ll maim your emotions, I’ll run the whole game, Till your entire existence is crippled with shame. I hope you are feeling better today Maxine, and that your "down" period is becoming an "up" one. Peaks and troughs have been an aspect of my recovery process too. I think these experiences of good and bad days are essential to our gaining strength. You just can’t dismiss all the good times we’ve shared, When you were alone… wasn’t it I who appeared? When you sold those possessions you knew you would need, Wasn’t I the first one who stepped in and agreed? It's my belief that the addiction hides the real person underneath. If we, as loved ones, think that our addicts will behave and react in a "normal" manner while in the throws of addiction, we are simply deluding ourselves.He was passionate about his work and volunteered tirelessly at the local animal shelter. His quiet example of kindness and empathy will not be forgotten. [Deceased's Name]'s love for music transcended the bounds of his own life, as he taught his younger cousins how to play the guitar and the piano.