Independent Breaks #3

A vital lesson I have learned in recovery is this: My relationship with myself will always determine my relationships with others.


Learned a lesson or two being ground to dust at the end of her stiletto fears.
A little easier to expect a hair above nothing so I can squeak by on minimal effort.
We’re symbiotic that way, at least before defining the roles of host and parasite.
Not that either of us has much nourishment for the other.
It’s hard to grow strong from decay…
But I’m doubting that knowledge is going to stop me from falling.

It’s almost as if I’m rewinding the same old tape
In that same old VCR
Fighting myself to change the storyline, adding & subtracting new characters…
Actors all very similar in face.
Cold, plastic smiles as realistic as a unicorn
I remember this place now
I remember this feeling- and all of those feelings
I let it happen again
His approach outstanding compared to the others
Applause should be rewarded
Leaching off my sick emotional stand point
His ego grew till eventually the table at which we both sat
It could only just seat him
The life I pictured several times over was misplaced beyond a bad decision
None of them said they never meant to do this
I never thought each time I’d still be picking up the pieces of myself
Glueing them together just with less and less left
A truly scrapped together existence of what I used to be
Once upon a dream.
Staring at the floor from this bed, focus intense
Waiting for the littered hardwood background to spring to life
I drift, upwards, I’m floating far away as a roach skitters across the floor
I’m happy where I am, mainly because roaches disgust me
But I’m held back, by something, not shoved down, just imprisoned.
No, I’m contained. Passive aggressive restraints…
I don’t know who is the what and certainly can’t define this paradoxical ascent
Like gravity got lazy or selective and my dopamine darlings made a deal with the devil, Backroom type of shit.
Signing on the dotted line is dated, was it ever barely connected?
Kind of feeling like that, holding on to chemical tricks to be here…alone.
The sugar ants have picked up the scent and march
Back and forth to somewhere
Anywhere might be better than my head
I miss her- her flesh, her touch, her forced smiles
I’m dirty, mind on the never ending pleasure quest
Don’t think I saw her slip away, too busy separating our broken hearts…
Too busy filling in the gaps with a stranger’s pieces
I did this
I am this…betrayal
Nameless, faceless Dopamine Darling, never let me go.
The solitude fortress of vodka bottle was shattering,
Staring at a base that no longer could protect me
I was slipping further into illusion and deeper into despair,
My demons knew his would over power them in strength
We allowed this all to happen, again
A funky smell of defeat, my alcohol was selling me out
The phone felt like it would never ring again.
My life an empty mess
A star that had once shined so bright,
I constantly dimmed myself
I promised myself this wasn’t going to end this way
Three trips to the liquor store to ease my emotional pain
The tears wouldn’t stop rushing
I reference a past hurt as I’d rather take another black eye then a broken heart any day…
This punching bag became a sponge, soaking in every last word
Repeatedly rehearsing it
Always chiming in ” But my dear, I say worse to myself alone, shall I help you?”
My deteriorating body and mind now lay awake
Unforgiving of all these strangers I convinced myself I had once knew
And of the woman I had pretended to be that kept landing me here, again.

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