Friday, February 24, 2017


It is a hard road back from addiction. It starts
under grey sky. It wasn't easy. When I stopped
taking whatever let me escape, the sun went
out. The sky left me. I had to prepare to find
my way by feel at first. So I followed the path

of destruction my using history had scorched
through my life, but follow it from the ending,
back. After all, I did this so I could live a life
somewhat closer to "normal." Normal people
don't burrow into self-destruction, not like this.

I started with the last relationship that I took
hostage and followed it to my youth. I lost
count of all the crashed and broken things
I called Love at the time, not knowing how
to take responsibility for the words I spoke;

all the opportunities I left knocking on doors
I never answered; the people I lost touch with
when I stopped answering the phone honestly;
the pieces of myself I trade away, just to settle
for less than nothing. Every recovering addict

has this killing field, this mass grave of waste
we call regrets. The odd thing is how we hang
on to this pain, like there's something precious
to suffering through every step, when it's not
the destination. What saves us is taking steps.

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