Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Self-Pity (a poem about the feelings of addiction)


I once had a dream
Awoke with a scream
The sweat still in my eyes.

Nothing was what it seemed
Life was fiction I deemed
As I heard the rabbit's cries.

Strong coffee and cream
To clear the fog, I mean
Is it true that everyone dies?

Then I awoke from my dream
The dream within a dream within a dream
And life goes on I despise.


That was written while I was in jail, at the start of my drying out time. Not my sobriety. I drank after I got out that time. I think that was why I worded the end "I despise." I knew I wasn't sober, even though I knew that was what I needed. Sobriety is a tricky, slippery thing. And you know if it's not there; even if you desperately want and need it to be. I look back and it depresses me a little that I wasn't there at the time. But I can't beat myself up over it, only realize it wasn't time yet. I had to be broken down even further to become fully accepting to a life of sobriety.
And it is a good damn life now.

1 comment: